The Unfortunate Side Effects of Heartbreak and Magic(65)

“We’re going to need a wagon if you buy anything else,” Sadie said with mock sternness.

“Do they sell wagons here?” Anne asked, completely without irony.

And that’s when she saw him.

Jake.

Standing at Jim’s stall, perusing potatoes. And there, beside him, was a woman whose intense, striking beauty seemed to sing out from her. Bethany.

Sadie had expected her to be showing, but her thin, runner’s frame was lithe, with no visible bump. Of course, she had to be perfect. Her hair was a thick, lustrous curtain the black of a midnight, moonless sky. It swayed as she turned her dark eyes up to Jake. And when he looked down at her, his eyes darted back up, as though sensing her presence.

She wanted to turn around and bolt. The dread pooling in her stomach turned sour, and the bile at the back of throat tasted alarmingly of jealousy.

And then, something Gigi used to say echoed through her head, words she’d whisper to Sadie as a little girl when they’d walk down the sidewalk and mothers would pull their children hurriedly to the other side of the street. Words that would unfurl around Sadie as a gossamer protection when Seth would beg her to use her magic to make them normal, clutching her hand in his in the darkness of a fingernail moon.

“You know who you are. Never let anyone or anything mold you into something different. Don’t let those idiots tell you what to do or how to live your life.” And so she plastered a smile on her face as Bethany followed his line of sight. She could have turned tail and run. Instead, she puffed up her tail feathers and did the right thing.

“Jake!” Sadie called with a smile so bright she thought it might shatter her face. “And you must be Bethany. This is Anne, my aunt. She’s visiting from out of town.” If she let a moment of silence hang, she might crack. Thank goodness Anne could talk the ear off an auctioneer and seemed to sense Sadie’s distress. The next few minutes were peppered with Anne’s questions and Bethany’s answers, and Sadie did everything in her power not to look at Jake, even though she could feel him watching her.

“How are you liking small-town life so far?” Anne asked.

“I’m just visiting while we decide on some things. But it’s much … smaller than I was expecting,” Bethany said carefully.

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Sadie said with a light laugh. “Congratulations, by the way. You look radiant.” And she did.

“I’m not showing yet,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“How’s Gigi?” Jake asked, his wary eyes traveling from his affianced to Sadie and then back to Bethany. “Her grandmother is sick,” he explained.

“Yeah, cancer.” Sadie nodded, her lips automatically pursing into a frown. “She’s … okay, I guess. It’s hard to tell with her sometimes. She never complains.”

“Oh.” Bethany reached out her hands to Sadie, who did the same on instinct. “I’m so sorry. My grandmother was my best friend, and she passed away from cancer two years ago.” She squeezed Sadie’s hands with honest concern in her eyes that made Sadie itch with discomfort.

“Thank you,” she said, trying and failing not to like her. Stunning and nice. Damn it all, she thought.

“I hate to be rude, but speaking of Gigi, we better get back,” Anne interrupted before Sadie was forced to think of another response.

“I hope I see you again,” Bethany said with a smile, her hair wafting cardamom like a spicy wave of welcome.

“Hard not to in a town like this,” Sadie told her, and they smiled at each other.

Jake looked back over his shoulder at Sadie as they walked away. This would be the new normal. Stolen glances and hidden memories, secret desire and guilt bitter as bile.

Anne was suspiciously quiet as they loaded everything into the car. The ominous sky reflected Sadie’s mood. The wind tasted bitter and whispered of the changes on the horizon. Sadie shivered.

Things were picking up. And she didn’t like it one bit. Her emotions were in a swirl, and her brain couldn’t decide which problem to worry about. Just as she shut the trunk, a clap of thunder resounded through the sky. Storms like this always messed with her magic.

“Should I ask?” Anne asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“No point.” Sadie sighed.

And surprisingly, Anne didn’t say anything else—just reached over and squeezed Sadie’s hand.

“What was she like?” Sadie asked, feeling it was safe to ask in the quiet space of the car, the hum of the old engine cutting through her words. She knew Anne would know whom she meant without clarifying.

“As Mom would say, ‘wild as a march hare.’” Anne laughed. “She was a pain in my ass, I’ll say that. We had some good times, but she had her own friends. There was drugs and drinking, and I was too straightlaced for that. Always afraid of getting in trouble. But not Florence. Trouble followed her wherever she went.”

They were quiet the rest of the way home, Sadie turning the words over in her mind. Her mother. The one she knew almost nothing about. Who would, according to Gigi, someday make her way back. Soon.

They ate dinner in the living room that night since Gigi was in too much pain to sit at the table. She tried to balk, but none of them would hear it.

The next week passed in a blur.