Page 23 of The Woodsmoke Women's Book of Spells
“I am.”
Cora moves toward the Moses basket and pours the sleeping, flushed-cheek bundle into it. She rocks the basket gently, watching the rosebud of Lillian’s mouth opening and closing. Howard wanted children; she knew that much. How many did he saywhen they first started courting? Four? She pinches her lips, trying not to think of Howard. Trying not to think of his needs, his wants. If she takes the book from Ivy, what love will she lose? A future child? The prospect ofeverhaving children? The mountains extract payment somehow, she knows that much. Sometimes in ways you don’t see coming.
As she watches Lillian sleep, still gently rocking the Moses basket, she thinks of how much Howard would love this. Their own child in a Moses basket in the front room, Cora pottering around the kitchen getting the supper ready. He’s that kind of man. But what she wants, what she has always wanted... is the book. The old ways. The tales of the mountains, the closest thing on this earth to real magic. “I guess we’d find out,” she murmurs to herself.
Ivy sighs, a frown pinching her forehead. “I was afraid that would be your answer.”
“Why now? Why would you hand it over to me now?” Cora glances at Ivy, noting how tired she looks around her eyes, how limp and a little thin her hair is. How she slumps on the sofa like she’d be happy to nap for half the day.
“Because...” Ivy stops, biting her lip. “Because when I look at Lillian, I see everything I ever wanted. I have this deep peace within me, this certainty. And I want you to be happy, Cora, more than anything. I want you to have that same peace, and I don’t think you’ll get it from having children. I think the only way is if I give you the book. But—but it won’t be my price to pay, and that’s what I’m afraid of. That you’ll lose something, or someone, either now or in the future, and the price will be your happiness, when that’s what I’m trying to fix.”
Cora turns to Ivy, fixing her with a look. “Someone I love for the book. That’s the price.”
“Yes. That’s what the book says. That’s what the mountains will ask of you.”
“Done.”
Ivy blinks, sadness flooding her eyes, then finally she nods. “All right then, if that’s your decision. I’ll follow the steps and break the bond. On the next full moon, the book will be yours.”
Winter
November–December
Chapter 19
Jess
“I thought she married some fashion designer in Paris. Had five kids and got really into hemp.”
“No, that was Suzie Riley. And it was Milan, not Paris.”
“Well, I heard she moved to New York and runs a bookshop. There was lots of competition from a bigger bookstore, and she nearly got closed down.”
Jess snorts discreetly into her scarf. “You’re thinking of that film.You’ve Got Mail.”
The other mums all raise their eyebrows. Gillian snaps her fingers, and her carroty hair flies around her face with a sudden gust from the north. “I can’t ever keep these things straight in my head. I swear I lost half my brain after the third.”
Jess sighs, wishing not for the first time that she had someone to turn to, someone whose eye she could catch for a fraction of a second, who would know in that trace of a heartbeat how ridiculous she finds Gillian. How ridiculous theybothfind her. But she’s never found someone to fill that gap, not since Carrie. And now these women, these friends, are all having a pop at Carrie and she feels a weird twinge of protectiveness. Of melancholic annoyance.
“I’m sure she’s only back to sort out the cottage. Then she’ll be off again,” Jess says briskly, checking her watch. She’s still got a few minutes before she has to leave for the library, and after book club the other night, she’s really over all the fresh gossip and intrigue stirred up about Carrie. “I doubt we’ll even see her.”
“Has Tom seen her?” Amy asks slyly, eyes narrowing like a cat’s.
Jess clears her throat, bunching her fists in her pockets. “Why would he?”
“It was all so long ago, Ames. Seriously,” Gillian says, trying unsuccessfully to tame her wild ginger mane with a claw clip. “Let it go.”
“You’re not worried then, Jess?” Amy asks.
Jess takes a minute to reply, hoping whatever answer she gives will snuff out a rumor before it’s had time to catch fire. “Tom hasn’t talked to her, or about her, in years. Not since she left. And they were eighteen, remember? Kids, basically. What does it even matter if she’s back for a couple of months?”
“Huh,” Amy says, shrugging. “I guess so.”
“Cora Morgan’s been at it again, though. Told my second cousin Jenifer she was cursed the other day,” Gillian says.
“A curse she placed on her?” Amy laughs.
“Your second cousin Jenifer isn’t cursed,” Jess snips irritably. She doesn’t like all this poking and prodding at the collective knowledge about the Morgan women. It sets her teeth on edge wondering what will be dug up next. “The girl’s a damn flake.”
