Page 54 of The Woodsmoke Women's Book of Spells
“It’s about Jess.”
“Isn’t it always?”
He curses under his breath, shifting in his seat. “Yes, Carrie. Yes, it’s always about Jess... because it’s always been about Jess. I love her. I love her so damn much, and all I do is hurt her, all the time—”
“And what do you think you’re doing right now? Coming here?”
“Straightening things out.” He wets his lips, a slight frown dimpling his forehead. “I’m sorry I asked you to leave a few months ago. I—I can’t take that back, just like I can’t expect you to vanish like smoke. I thought it would be the best thing for Jess. For... us. But it isn’t. She misses you, and when you left, it was what she was most afraid of. She won’t make the first move, Carrie. You have to.”
I place the wineglass down carefully and push it away with the tips of my fingers. It slides across the surface of the kitchen island, and I allow his words to echo around us. When I speak, my voice comes out thicker than I intended. Rife with a decade, a lifetime, of emotions. “I’ve been back for months. Why tonight?”
“Jess is pregnant.”
I still a hiss on my tongue, eyes snapping to his. “And she’s all right?”
“She’s fine.” He sighs. “Baby’s fine. It’s me. I—I didn’t handle things right at all.”
I take a deep breath. “What do you want, Tom?”
“Can you... speak to her?” he asks, opening his arms wide. “See a way of patching things up? Find some common ground, be civil with each other. Something. You’re both too big a presencein Woodsmoke to exist apart. There’s too much history. This will keep simmering away, and it’s already a weight on her, it’s already affecting her. If you’re staying, then at some point you’ll bump into each other. You have to fix—”
“Does she want that? Did she send you?”
“No, no, she didn’t—”
I laugh, reaching again for my wineglass. I bury my hurt in a quick sip, letting the taste linger on my tongue before swallowing. If Jess had wanted to see me, if she had wanted this... but no. This is about Tom wanting his life to go smoothly. His stumbling way of making his wife happy. “Time to go, Tom.”
He swears again, dropping his gaze to the floor. He keeps it pinned there for a moment, and I can feel the desperation seeping from him. “I don’t want to lose her. I don’t want to lose what we have, Carrie. And I realize now that I shouldn’t have told you that you shouldn’t have come back. This is your home too, Woodsmoke is yours as much as ours. I see that now.”
A part of me thaws, just a little. “Go on.”
“I think Jess has been looking over her shoulder this whole time, hoping to see you, missing you. I don’t know. I can see how that would cut a person up, make them miserable. And what if you did come back looking to stir things up? Maybe that’s what she’s afraid of.”
In a way, he’s right. Maybe Jess was right to be afraid, maybe there was a part of me that wanted this town to implode with my homecoming. I always felt like I was out of step, like Woodsmoke didn’t accept me. But as soon as I got engaged, when I agreed to wear that pretty white dress, suddenly I was the golden girl. Suddenly I was valued. But I couldn’t fit into a version of myself that wasn’t real. And the bitterness of feeling that I couldn’t just belong asme, that I had to be what folkwantedme to be, lasted for years and years.
But I don’t feel like that anymore. Not after this winter. It’s as though the frost has cooled the bile inside me, allowing this homecoming to be more healing than I ever imagined it could be. I think of Matthieu, of the shop in town that could become something else. I think about the spring and how the mountains are changing. And about how I’ve changed since I returned, how I’ve begun to feel like this is home. Like I’ve found it. Like I belong somewhere and with someone. “I’ll talk to her,” I say quietly. “Not tonight, but I will. You have my word.”
He blows out a breath, and I swear his edges sharpen. He sits up straighter, regaining some of the old Tom. The apple thief. The boy who hopped the wall of the Morgan garden on a dare, even though the town whispered of curses and witches. Who played bass in a band, swaggering around town like he would conquer the world one day. “Thank you.”
“You should probably go home. She’ll—Jess will be worried.”
He hesitates, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. There are still shadows there, ghosts that have not been dispelled. I brace myself. “There’s one more thing. You have to know... it’s about Cora.” Our eyes meet, and I nod slowly. “Jess went to her before the wedding, and Cora said she’d take care of it. Of us. And that was when I saw Jess properly; it was like a gauze had been ripped away. I didn’t want to leave Woodsmoke, like we planned anyway, and after that day, I was even more sure about that. And then you ran on our wedding day... and I don’t know. I guess Jess has been in torment ever since. She told me tonight. And I don’t know how much of it I believe, but deep down I’ve always loved Jess. I know this is important for her that you know what she did, so that she can let go of the guilt...”
My breath catches and I swallow. Jess went to Cora. She went to Cora knowing full well what that would mean, after seeing glimpses of the magic herself throughout our childhood... shewent to my great-aunt and asked for her help. I take a sip of wine and feel it burn all the way down my throat. Cora, with her bony, pinching fingers. Cora, with her intense, strangling love...
“Of course,” I say quietly. “It always comes back to her. Always.”
“I’m sorry, I just thought you should know the whole truth, Jess is in bits—”
“It’s okay.” I run my hand over my forehead. “Please tell her it’s okay, and I’ll come over there and see her soon.”
Tom nods, saying nothing, and begins to slide off the barstool. “I know we can’t... it’s impossible to make it right between us. But Carrie, you were my friend too. I shouldn’t have implied you shouldn’t stay when you got back. I’m sorry.”
I breathe through my nose and fix on a smile for him. “Honestly, put it out of your mind. It all makes sense now. More than you know.” I frown down at my wineglass. Piecing together the weeks leading up to the wedding, piecing everything together. “Cora warned me about Matthieu, how he could disappear, and now he’s missing. I can’t help thinking... I...”
“Who’s Matthieu?”
“A friend.” I smile, feeling the ghost of a kiss, the touch of his hand. “More than a friend. Cora told me he wasn’t real, and that he would disappear as the frost thaws, and I haven’t seen him since yesterday. Haven’t heard from him. Maybe it sounds unbelievable—”
