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THIRTY
Just shy of three weeks had passed since my last Liar’s Tour. I was sure that my pack of suburban dads had already pretty much forgotten about me, wrapped up as they were in soccer matches and sales meetings and reporting deadlines. Since I’d dropped them off at the Pirate’s House, they had fought with their wives, made up, mowed their lawns, and played a few rounds of golf. I’d probably never cross their minds again. But I was sure I’d never forget them, because the hours I’d spent with them had marked the end of my normal life. From the moment I saw Jilo in Colonial Park Cemetery and got it in my head to pay her a visit, my world had gone mad.
Ginny’s murder and the drawing of lots. Maisie’s jealous rage and disappearance, even if only temporary, from my life. Jilo’s spells pulling me into her dark world then sending me running into Peter’s arms. Grace’s revenge and my borrowing Oliver’s power. Connor and Wren. The fire and dark spirits that had fed on them. Jackson, and Jackson’s departure. The microscopic infant in my womb.
I found myself sitting on the base of the Waving Girl statue at the riverfront, staring out at the water and wishing for a return of the simple life I’d always known. All of a sudden I understood Florence, and why she’d come out here for forty years waving her apron. She wasn’t waiting for a man, she was hoping for the return of the girl she’d been before her life had been turned upside down. I wasn’t sure I’d ever have the heart to lie about her again.
I was going to have a boy, Ellen told me, provided that I chose to have it. It, he, would be healthy, she assured me, if I decided to carry him to term. The embryo was only a few days old, and it would take hardly any witch magic at all to undo the union of sperm and egg. If that’s what I wanted, it could all simply go away, like it had never happened.
I watched the light gleaming on the river, and my hand fell instinctively over my stomach, protecting the blooming life I knew was there, even though it would be days before there were any non-magical signs of its existence. I’d never judge another woman for doing away with an unexpected pregnancy, but abortion was not for me. There were no two ways about it. I would have this child, even if it meant risking my life like my mama had done. And that meant that I would forever be linked with Peter. I’d have to find a way to forgive him, because my baby was not going to grow up without his father. That didn’t mean I’d ever be his wife. I wasn’t sure I trusted him, and I could never marry a man unless I trusted him. To be fair, I wasn’t so sure I trusted anyone anymore.
A group of tourists arrived, snapping pictures of themselves next to the Waving Girl. I didn’t want to be the shadow in their photos, so I slid off the statue’s base and headed up River Street, replaying the tours I’d done over the years in my mind. Mind the cobblestones and never mind the cobbled together lies. The bars lie dead ahead! Don’t forget to tip your guide.
I had to talk to Peter, and the sooner the better. I needed to get everything settled before the next rush of insanity arrived. It was less than a week before the investment ceremony, when the anchor energy would be linked to Maisie for her lifetime, and soon the Taylor house would be filled to the brim with representatives from each of the nine other families who would be there to participate. I found a new appreciation for Emmet, since he was a much more manageable way of housing nine guests at once.
Maisie would be back the day before the ceremony. I wondered how much I’d have to tell her about what had happened and how much she already knew. It was hard to believe that she’d only been gone for a week.
The story about the fire at Ginny’s house and Connor’s suicide had headlined the newspapers gracing half the doorsteps in Savannah and had also been on all the local television stations. I turned up East Broad, doing my best to evade anyone I might recognize. They’d want to talk about was what had happened, and I was in no mood. Let the people of Savannah think what they wanted, but for God’s sake, let them keep it to themselves.
I fished my cell phone out of my backpack while I walked, and turned it on. Thirty texts, mostly from Peter. A couple of voice mails from Ellen and Oliver. I opened Peter’s last message and without even reading it, responded “Meet me at home.”
He was waiting for me outside in his truck when I got there. He started to get out, but I climbed in to the passenger’s side instead. “I know you went to Jilo,” I said. “I know you had her put a spell on me.”
Shame turned his face a deeper red than his hair. “Mercy,” he started.
“And then you took me to bed,” I interrupted him. “Knowing that I was under the influence of Jilo’s magic.”
He slammed his fist into the steering wheel, and tears started streaming down his face. The guilt he felt wouldn’t let him look at me. “I thought I was going to lose you. I thought I was going to lose you to him.”
“Yeah, well ‘he’ is gone, and I’m still here. But you done lost me anyway,” I said, feeling more resigned than angry.
Peter buried his face in his hands, his broad shoulders heaving up and down in the rhythm of his heavy sobs. “I am so sorry, Mercy. I am so sorry.” He lifted his face from his hands and looked at me. “I won’t ask you to forgive me. I know I don’t deserve that. Just know that if I could take it back, I would. I even tried. I went back to Jilo a couple of days after I sought her out. She told me it was too late to take it back. I hoped that she’d fail, you being who you are.”
“And who am I?” I asked. Was he holding back more secrets? Had he, along with the rest of the western world, known who my father was all along? Irrational questions, maybe, but I was fresh out of trust.
“Well, a Taylor,” he said flustered. “I thought maybe—”
“You should have told me what you did,” I said.
“I know I should’ve, but I was so afraid,” he said. “It’s no excuse, I was a coward.”
“Damn right you were,” I said and glared at him. “You were the one person in my life I could count on to simply be what you said you were. No tricks. No lies. No magic. And what do you do? You use magic on me.” Hearing myself say the words, I realized that this was the real reason I felt betrayed. It wasn’t because Peter had had a love spell set on me. It was because I’d always believed that magic was the one weapon that he would never—could never—use against me. But then he had gone and done it.
On the other hand, there was no circumventing the fact that I too had gone to Jilo asking for the self same spell. I had been willing to use her magic to deceive myself, and by extension, Peter. My attempts at righteous indignation started to feel a little bit less righteous.
“All I can say is that I am sorry,” he said. “I’ll always love you, Mercy. And I will go to my grave regretting what I did.” He took in a ragged breath and slumped back in his seat. “I’ll understand if you don’t want me to be a part of your life anymore.”
Seeing the regret written across his face, a face that had been a part of my world since I spent my days dressing like a tomboy and climbing trees, convinced me that even though I might never marry him, I’d always want him around. Dishonesty didn’t come naturally to Peter. “Well, it’s a little too late for all that, seeing as how we are having a baby.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “What?”
“We’re having a baby, Peter. Ellen felt it in me, and she’s never wrong about these things.”
His face morphed from the red mask of guilt I’d been looking at a moment ago to the ashen white of fear and then settled into a glow of joy. “Oh, Mercy. I don’t deserve this,” he said reaching out to me, trying to pull me to him for a kiss.
I slapped his hand away, and his eyes went wide with fear and regret. “We’re having a baby together,” I said firmly. “That doesn’t mean that we’re together, or that we’re going to be.”
