Caleb looked somber. “We don’t have to inform the whole coven, Sarah, but we can’t keep everybody in the dark either. We should choose who to tell and what to tell them.”
“It will be far harder to explain Diana’s pregnancy than it will be to come up with a good reason for her shimmering,” Sarah said, stating the obvious. “She’s just starting to show, but with twins the pregnancy is going to be impossible to ignore very soon.”
“Which is exactly why we need to be completely honest,” Abby argued. “Witches can smell a half truth just as easily as a lie.”
“This will be a test of the coven’s loyalty and open-mindedness,” Caleb said thoughtfully.
“And if we fail this test?” Sarah asked.
“That would divide us forever,” he replied.
“Maybe we should leave.” I’d experienced what such divisiveness could do firsthand, and I still had nightmares about what had happened in Scotland when witch turned against witch and the Berwick trials began. I didn’t want to be responsible for destroying the Madison coven, forcing people to uproot themselves from houses and farms their families had owned for generations.
“Vivian?” Caleb turned to the coven’s leader.
“The decision should be left to Sarah,” Vivian said.
“Once I would have believed that all this weaving business should be shared. But I’ve seen witches do terrible things to each other, and I’m not talking solely about Emily.” Sarah glanced in my direction but didn’t elaborate.
“I can keep Corra indoors—mostly. I can even avoid going into town. But I’m not going to be able to hide my differences forever, no matter how good my disguising spell,” I warned the assembled witches.
“I realize that,” Vivian said calmly. “But this isn’t just a test—it’s an opportunity. When witches set out to destroy the weavers those many years ago, we lost more than lives. We lost bloodlines, expertise, knowledge—all because we feared a power we didn’t understand. This is our chance to begin again.”
“‘For storms will rage and oceans roar,’” I whispered.
“‘When Gabriel stands on sea and shore.
And as he blows his wondrous horn,
Old worlds die and new be born.’”
Were we in the midst of just such a change?
“Where did you learn that?” Sarah’s voice was sharp.
“Goody Alsop shared it with me. It was her teacher’s prophecy—Mother Ursula.”
“I know whose prophecy it is, Diana,” Sarah said. “Mother Ursula was a famous cunning woman and a powerful seer.”
“She was?” I wondered why Goody Alsop hadn’t told me.
“Yes, she was. For a historian you really are appallingly ignorant of witches’ lore,” Sarah replied.
“I’ll be damned. You learned how to weave spells from one of Ursula Shipton’s apprentices.” Sarah’s voice held a note of real respect.
“Then we haven’t lost everything,” Vivian said softly, “so long as we don’t lose you.”
Abby and Caleb packed their van with chairs, leftovers, and children. I was on the driveway, waving good-bye, when Vivian approached me, a container of potato salad in one hand.
“If you want Sarah to snap out of her funk and stop staring at that tree, tell her more about weaving.
Show her how you do it—insofar as you can.”
“I’m still not very good at it, Vivian.”