“Oh, come on,” she said. “Isn’t it obvious? Mom had cancer. Guaranteed she knew before she even started showing symptoms. And she hid it. It was probably around the same time Seth’s magic started acting up. Because as her health got worse, the bonds of magic would have deteriorated, and the conduit magic would have spiked. Your conduit magic,” she clarified, pointing to Seth.
“What?” Sadie started. “But I—then how come my magic has been going haywire?”
“Grief will do that to you,” Florence answered with a frown. “So will any kind of strong emotions you can’t control. You’ve always had your magic, known what it was and how to use it. For Seth, it makes sense that it was muted because of Mom’s—I mean your grandmother’s—enchantments.”
Nothing could have stunned Sadie more, but the moment her mother spoke the words, she knew they were true. And that’s when she felt it. The dread. The very reason she’d never wanted her mother to come back, even when they were little.
Florence was already pulling Seth away.
She’d lost her brother once, and now she felt him slipping away again. Seth had always had a hard exterior. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he didn’t care about anything. But Sadie knew how sensitive he really was. And now their mother was here to show him what Sadie could never make him believe. His worth. His legacy.
“Let me ask you something,” Florence said, interrupting Sadie’s dark thoughts. “It doesn’t work on blood, right, Seth?”
“No, thank God. Then again, I can’t get it to work on myself either,” he replied. “Sometimes I wish it would.”
“That would be far too easy, wouldn’t it?” Florence asked with kindness. “Magic doesn’t work like that, unfortunately.”
“So, you can’t tell what I want? What I need?” Sadie asked her brother.
“Other than a swift kick to the ass every now and then? No. But then again, that’s not magic—that’s just common sense.”
“Hilarious,” Sadie murmured, rolling her eyes.
Part of this felt normal. And how that could possibly be, Sadie had no idea. Maybe it was because Florence had a hard surety to her the same way Gigi had. She wanted to learn to love her. To forgive her. But that felt like a betrayal to Gigi as the woman who’d raised her. And how could she possibly welcome with open arms the woman who had left them, had another daughter, and now threatened her relationship with her brother? So many conflicting emotions left her exhausted. But she’d said she’d plumbed the depths of their magic, and if she could help save Seth without Sadie having to sacrifice herself, well, she could make nice for the next two weeks, at least. At the thought, she remembered the letters. The lockbox.
She left and a moment later returned, setting everything on the table.
Seth stared at the letter like it was a ticking time bomb before tucking it away in his back pocket.
Kay snatched hers up hungrily, already crying, and went to the living room.
Anne and Florence opened theirs on the spot.
Sadie excused herself to the back patio. She needed space. But Bambi had other ideas. He followed her out the screen door and nudged into her leg until she sat down to pet him. Then Simon slinked his way out of the garden and up the steps, rubbing against her other side, his tail flicking back and forth until he settled against her hip with one of his gravelly mews. Bambi watched her and then plopped down too. It was the silent support she needed in a way only animals could sometimes offer.
Now that everything had been stripped from her, she knew there was nothing worse than losing the thing you loved most. Her curse had dictated more than half her life. It had made her dread love instead of cherishing it. Push people away for fear of heartbreak instead of drawing them close for strength and healing.
She sat there until the lyreleaf opened and the screech owls sat silent in their towering trees. She pulled her sweater tight against her to keep out the cold, wrapped her arms around her middle, and hunched over her knees. All she wanted was to hear Gigi’s voice, to feel the warmth of her rough hands as they patted her cheek. But mostly, she wanted to know what Gigi would have had to say about Florence, her prodigal daughter finally returned home.
“I used to sit out here and watch her garden,” a soft voice said from beside her.
Sadie startled, for the door hadn’t creaked as it always did.
Florence leaned her elbows on the railing. “I was never very good at it,” she continued. “Tava was the worst. She had a black thumb. Could kill a plant just by looking at it. Anne, well, she was and still is a nerve ending.” She laughed. Sadie could tell by the tone of her voice the way she’d missed her siblings over the years, the longing inside her for everything that had gone on without her. “She’d start a garden and harvest a few tomatoes, and then move onto the next thing, the next idea, the next project. And Kay never had any patience for it. She’d just as soon use her magic to burn your hair as to coax a bloom to life.”