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Eleven
I wiped my brow, thankful for the sun in the sky as I pressed in the final plant of my cold-weather herbs. The sharp scent of rosemary pierced my nose, and I smiled as Jenks chased another field mouse across the yard. Spending the day with my hands in the dirt was a welcome reprieve as I contemplated what to do.
Obviously, I’d have to make a decision soon about joining the Weaver.
“Milly, there’s a time in every witch’s life when a hard choice has to be made. Just be brave, and your magic will see you through.”
I tilted my face to the sun, letting its warm rays heat my cheeks. Mama’s lessons always rang true exactly when I needed them, but more than anything, I wished she was here.
Losing myself in the fantasy of books was how I’d spent most of my time after she was gone. Flying high on a dragon’s back with a handsome knight holding me tight or exploring the deep sea with a roguish and fearless captain were the only experiences with men I had to draw on… besides Peter, of course—the fantasy outweighing reality. And now spending time with Roarke had me yearning for Mama’s guidance more than ever.
Standing and smoothing my apron, I gathered my basket of basil, oregano, parsley, and thyme and returned to the house. The chill of the stone floor in the back room penetrated my boots even as the sun still warmed my back. Fall was almost upon us, and the leaves on the trees would start changing soon enough. This was my favorite time of year, and the timing of the Weaver’s presence—Roarke’s presence—somehow felt less than ironic. The turning of the wheel was spinning toward the Witches New Year, and I wondered how different my life would be the next time Mabon, Samhain, and Yule came around.
As my final task from the garden this year, I sorted the herbs and bound them with twine, hanging them from the rafters to dry. Even separate from their main, life-giving plant, they still carried magic inside them with a new purpose to serve.
“Just be brave…”
I shook my head. I wasn’t sure if I could.
With a final touch to their dried stalks, I turned off the light and plunged the herbs into their next phase of life… a life from death.
I paced the hardwood floor the same way my mom did—in my bare feet, walking until my heels were almost raw. Unable to sleep, I tossed over everything in my mind. Roarke had whisked me away to Venice after I hadn’t responded in the vineyard, and while the beauty and grandeur was something I’d never forget, so was the feeling he was still hiding something from me.
I needed to get back to my research and hoped by Thursday Keelyn would have found something of use. I looked at the clock on the wall, its gold hands creeping their way through the night, and thought about what I could do since I wouldn’t be going back to bed anytime soon.
Jenks was curled up on my mattress, nestled in the blankets and purring soundly. I left the bedroom, gently pulling the door closed behind me. I stoked the fire next, needing its warmth to thaw my chilled bones, then filled the kettle, longing for some tea. September might be the first month of fall, but here in Rhode Island, the temperatures could dip toward freezing in the blink of an eye. With my garden beds already harvested and winterized, I found myself somewhat at a loss. And that was annoying.
During the past six years, I had occupied myself with chores and crafts from dawn till dusk. So why were things different now? You know why, I told myself. Because nothing could compare to spending time with Roarke in the dreamscape. Every dream I’d ever had was now a reality, and I wanted more.
I chose not to return to his cabin after Venice, ending our evening early instead. He didn’t question me, but I suddenly wondered if he could have denied my choice, keeping me there against my will. It was something I’d have to ask the next time I saw him for sure.
The soft chimes of the clock rang three times, indicating it was three in the morning. All my creams and candles had been prepared, and my stores were stocked for the next farmers market, so I clicked on the reading light above the couch and pulled a book from a nearby shelf. Preparing my tea once the kettle whistled, I sat down and forced myself to relax.
The words on the page were familiar and worn. Dragons soared through the air with knights on their backs, and as usual, I imagined myself one of them. I slammed the book shut, reprimanding myself for not enjoying the gift I’d been given. Roarke needed me, so why did I continue to think something bad was going on? Again, perhaps the doubts stemmed from within myself. This new life was almost too good to be true, and I wondered if that had anything to do with my concerns.
“Milly, if something seems too good to be true, it usually is.”
Mama’s words knocked around in my head as my heart thumped heavily against my ribs. This is ridiculous! I jumped up from the couch, the book falling with a thud to the floor. Pacing again, I had to get my thoughts and fears under control.
Lighting a stick of Nag Champa, I lay on the couch and pulled my favorite afghan up to my chin. The Weaver might hold dominion over my dreams, but I was still a powerful witch in my own right.
Goddess of night, hear my plea. Shroud me from the one who sees. Let me walk within my dreams, shielded and alone. So mote it be.
I cast the spell into the darkness and closed my eyes, praying it would work. I needed to experience the dreamscape without Roarke hovering nearby if I was ever going to trust myself in his world or with him.
A hushed wind greeted me, and I instantly knew where I was. Roarke’s hidden forest spread out around me, sleeping in silence as if it were resting, awaiting his return.
I crept down the tree-lined path toward his cabin, nervous he would catch me with every step. Smoke roiled from the chimney as the path opened up, revealing his hidden home, welcoming as ever. I stopped before reaching the front door, veering around to the lake instead.
The dark water was as calm and smooth as glass, and I wished my heart could be the same. But instead it was racing a mile a minute, beating wildly and sparking my fears in vibrant color. I had no idea what I should be looking for in order to ease my nerves. Did I really think the Weaver was hiding something, or was I simply too scared to share a part of myself with someone else after all this time? I looked down at my white-knuckled grip on the railing and admitted I was terrified to let go. Terrified I might turn around and find Roarke disappointed in me. Terrified to fully access all the unlimited power he was offering. But mostly, terrified to fully trust the Weaver with my heart.
I forced my fingers open and flung them out wide. Light burst forth all around me, blanketing the night in a fresh layer of day. Birds began to chirp in the distance, the trees stretching awake in an early morning breeze.
“Milly, is that you? What are you doing here?” Roarke came to stand behind me, hesitating when I didn’t turn around.
“I have so many questions, but let’s start with the obvious one. Will I ever be able to enter the dreamscape without you now?”
A slight inhale betrayed Roarke’s shock. “Is that what you want? To be here without me?”
