Page 27 of Christmas Past
“I’m not worried,” Bellamy replied. “I’m just trying to make sure all the boxes are checked. That’s part of being the maid-of-honor, isn’t it?”
I assured her it was, promised again that I’d see her at the rehearsal dinner, and then said I needed to take care of a few things at the house.
Which was only the truth. After Bellamy and I ended our call, Seth and I spent the rest of the afternoon settling back into our regular routine. We unpacked our antique clothes — which we knew we would keep, since they’d proven quite useful and would work for any vintage dance events that might happen in the future — and I checked the voicemails and emails and physical mail that had accumulated during our brief absence.
There wasn’t as much as I’d feared, but that was probably because my mother was collecting all the gifts from the Wilcox side of things and would bring them down the day before the wedding. But I was glad Seth and I didn’t have to deal with an avalanche of wedding-related stuff.
That evening, as we sat on our couch — our wonderfully comfortable, non-flowered, twenty-first-century couch — eating takeout Thai from the restaurant down in Cottonwood and watching a holiday movie, I realized something seemed to have changed about my magical gift. The chaotic, uncontrollable force that had plagued me for most of my life now felt almost stable, which it certainly had never been before.
Maybe Ruby’s firm hand had somehow taught it some manners.
“Seth,” I said after the movie was over and we were taking the leftovers into the kitchen, “I think something’s different about my magic.”
He looked over at me, eyebrows raised in question.
“It feels more like it’s truly mine, instead of something that just happens to me when I least want it to.” I closed my eyes and reached for my gift — not to use it, of course, but only to sense its presence. Now I sensed something almost steady and responsive, a wild cry from its previous near-anarchy. “I think all those jumps might have actually helped me gain better control.”
“That’s great news,” Seth replied at once, although something in his expression still seemed slightly worried. “You’re not planning to test it anytime soon, are you?”
I chuckled, then put the takeout boxes in the fridge. “Of course not. I’m perfectly happy staying in our own time for the foreseeable future. But it’s nice to know that if we ever need to travel again — which I sincerely hope we won’t — I might actually be able to do it safely.”
“Good,” he said, his tone firm. “Because I think I’ve had enough temporal adventures for one lifetime.”
That made two of us.
The next few days passed in a whirlwind of final wedding preparations. We met with Bree’s brother Shane, the head chef at the Asylum, to confirm the menu; did a final walk-through of the restaurant to make sure everything would be perfect; spent far too much money on last-minute details that probably no one but us would notice; and had a blessedly uneventful rehearsal dinner.
“You seem happy,” Bellamy commented as she, Bree, and I went over the final details for the ceremony. We were sitting in Bellamy’s kitchen at her newly acquired and renovated home, surrounded by a clutter of artisanal candles and silk bags and little tumbled semiprecious stones, all of which would be put together to make the wedding favors.
“That’s because I am,” I said, and realized those words were completely true. “I think the time Seth and I have spent together working on the wedding has helped us both figure some things out.”
“That’s good to hear,” Bree said with a grin. “Because I’ve known some people who were absolutely at each other’s throats while trying to figure out the centerpieces and the menu and the rest of it. If it weren’t for the way we witches have to stick to our own territories most of the time, I think Bill and I would happily elope.”
“So…you are getting married?” Bellamy demanded, gray eyes shining with interest. “When were you going to tell us?”
“When we thought it would be a good time,” Bree said calmly. “We didn’t want to overshadow Seth and Devynn’s wedding, and we didn’t want to make any big plans until we knew you’d set a date.”
“Well, you can set your mind at ease on that point,” Bellamy replied, and now it was her turn to grin. “Marc and I have decided on April twenty-fifth. The weather should be really nice, which is important because we want to have the wedding outside at the winery.”
That sounded perfect. The grounds were beautiful, and unless we had an odd cold snap or a sudden heat wave, temperatures should be in the mid-seventies around that time of year.
“Then maybe Belshegar and I will do something at the end of May,” Bree said. “It shouldn’t be too hot yet.”
The conversation continued on all things wedding, of course, with the two of them talking about their dream gowns and color schemes and all the other minutiae I’d already wrestled with. I was glad to join in and offer whatever advice I could…but I was also happy to know all the chaos was almost behind me.
On the day after Christmas — the day before our wedding — Seth and I walked hand in hand up Main Street to the mercantile. It was closed through New Year’s, but we let ourselves in through the back door, knowing we wanted to spend a few quiet minutes in the place that had been so important to his family and would continue to be such a key part of our lives together.
The store looked peaceful and quiet without the usual throngs of tourists who choked the place most weekends. We walked through the aisles, past displays of local pottery and the case where some of Angela’s jewelry was on display, past shelves of books and gourmet foods and T-shirts and all the other items that made up the modern incarnation of McAllister Mercantile.
“It’s funny,” Seth said as we stood behind the counter where his mother had once waited on me when I was a confused time traveler pretending to have amnesia. “This place has sort of been the constant through everything, hasn’t it? Different times, different owners, but always McAllister Mercantile.”
“And now it’s ours,” I replied, still a little amazed by the thought that the store which had once been a simple place for me to earn some spare cash had turned into so much else. “We’re part of that continuity.”
“We are,” Seth said, then bent and touched his lips to mine. It felt somehow illicit to kiss here, in a place that was usually so public, but I supposed it was our way of marking our commitment to one another…and to the store, so it might survive another hundred years. “And tomorrow,” he went on, “we’re going to officially start the next chapter.”
I leaned against him and let out a contented sigh.
Yes, this was exactly where we were supposed to be.
