An Unlikely Witch (6 page)

Aervyn wasn’t the only one.  Devin was leaping around like a dolphin, Nathan and Kevin hot on his heels.  Blatant power and young male foolishness, perhaps, but they had Kenna’s undivided attention, even if their mermaid tail illusions had gotten a tad woobly.

Fishies!

Those would be the silly mermen, sweet girl. 
Moira swam forward, fully intending to join them in their foolishness.  Even an old lady had a leap or two up her sleeve. 

Dev grinned and held out his arms. 
I think that mermaid movie has a dance or two.  Join me? 

Such ridiculousness. 
She was entirely sure she grinned like a besotted girl. 
You should dance with your wife.

His laugh rolled, even over the sounds of the ocean. 
She’d kill me if I danced with her like this. 
And then Moira was in his arms, caught up in his tumbling, laughing power.  She knew they went up, and she knew they went deep down—and after that, she only leaned her heart into the experience and rejoiced.

They were singing now, the rest of them.  Words of life under a watery sea as a very old lady danced with a man who easily could have challenged Neptune’s rule.

Kenna’s little body rocked on the waves, enchanted.

Devin slowed now, setting Moira down gently at Lauren’s side.  And then he swooped up his niece and made her his next queen.  He kept both their heads above water this time, but the wee girl would never know the difference.  She knew only that she danced with the king of the mermaids.

There was no purer delight in the entire universe.

And it wasn’t just Kenna.  Nat and Jamie caught Moira’s eye, basking together on a wave.   They drank their daughter’s elation, soaked it in and melded it to the bedrock of their family of three.

Two people who were so very meant to be parents.

Moira felt her instincts unfurling.  So much magic here.  So very much.  And she knew enough of rhythms and moons to know it was the time of Nat’s cycle when a tiny bean might need only a little more watering to plant and grow.

Lauren’s hand slid into hers. 
What do you need?

Such trust. 
A moment. 
Moira dropped out of the magic for just a breath—just long enough to check in with her own heart.  It wasn’t always wise to mess with the natural course of things.

And then, Nat, radiant, joined Devin and Kenna in their wild dance, and the old healer found her truth.  It might not work—but it was a fine idea to try.  She floated a thought Lauren’s direction. 
If you might catch the attention of that husband of yours…

She would try the very oldest of blessings.  A tiny magic, done in a maelstrom of power.  One seed, calling to another.  Devin needed only to hold them all steady.

There is nothing tiny about your magic,
sent Lauren fiercely.

I know. 
And on this day, she believed it.  Moira let her heart shine, warrior bright. 
Join with me now. We are not entirely at the mercy of a hunk of glass.

-o0o-

There was a moment, in every yoga class, where they collected all the gathered energy and simply breathed.

Nat floated onto her back, Jamie’s hand in her own, and felt the ocean join their collective exhale.

Warm swells lifted them up and down, making her feel like a seed in the river of some great cosmic wind.  The sky was gray overhead, the top of their enormous cocoon.  A seagull flew by, peering at them strangely, and then continued on its quest.  And the songs of mermaids and creatures of magic danced in the between spaces.

Flotsam on the waves.  Precious grains of sand rocked in the womb of the mother.  Nat felt all that was inside her opening to the magic.

Words drifted over her mind, said by one, said by many.  A blessing and a wish.

She wrapped the heart of love around her and the waiting space in her own womb.  Part of the flow.  Part of the great universe of love and energy and harmony and being.

Calling a sweet, small boy into life.

-o0o-

The orb woke, feeling the tugging. 

Not from the house—it was alone, except for the small furry creature who yowled and slept and had once been foolish enough to take a swipe at the orb’s surfaces. 

The tug came again, the sense that the fabric of the universe had a tiny snag.  Something pulling. 

It looked more closely.  The forces were well aware.  Watching.  Measuring.

Water.  So much water.  An ocean of it, and floating on its surface, specks that the orb recognized.  Human ones, wrapped in the thing they called magic.  Humans it knew, holding tight to the minute string in the thread of time that led to the little boy who liked to play with snow.

The orb froze, shocked.  The forces wouldn’t permit this, humans messing so brazenly in the strands of what needed to be.  They had humanity’s welfare to consider.  The greater good.  It waited, frightened for the specks.

And felt nothing.

The forces were silent, watching.  Allowing the tug.

The orb felt a warmth slide into its center.  These humans—they were ridiculous, and they listened about as well as the silly cat creature.  They had not yet delivered the message to the one it was meant for.  And yet, the thread to the small boy shimmered.

The orb stepped outside the edges of time, wanting to know—and felt the forces strike.  Hard.  Tools of magic weren’t permitted to push their limits.

Only frail humans.  The orb watched the specks floating on the water.  Jealous.  Nursing the ringing ache in its middle.

Wondering if they might possibly succeed.

Chapter 5

Moira looked at the glass of green goo preceding its holder through her back door and sighed.  “I suppose that’s for me.  I’m not in need of it.”

“That’s what they all say.”  Sophie closed the door behind her and handed over the glass.  “Drink, and then you can tell me why you were doing fertility spells in the middle of the Pacific Ocean in the winter.”

Not normally the most auspicious of times.  “Young Lizzie figured what I was about, did she?”  That was well done—it had been a very subtle spell wandering about in a hurricane of power.

“No.”  Sophie reached for one of the cookies sitting on a plate on the table.  “These are colorful.”

Hand delivered this morning.  “I think they’re reindeer.  Or possibly stars.”  It was hard to tell when several children under two had been involved in the making.  Aaron was a brave man—and a total marshmallow when any of the little ones wanted to help with the baking.  “And you can’t distract me that easily.”

Her visitor chuckled.  “Kevin is full of stories about swimming with the dolphins this morning, and Lizzie thinks being a water witch is right up there with being an angel or an astronaut.”

Given their youngest healer’s recent infatuation with trips to the moon, that was a high compliment indeed.  “It was totally delightful.  I haven’t had that much fun in the water in a good long while.”

Fingers pushed the glass of green goo closer.  “Drink.”

Moira sighed and picked up the glass.  “What gave me away?”

“You did, when you didn’t send me and my potion packing.”  Sophie grinned. 

Oh, dear.  Entirely busted.  “You’ve developed mind powers, have you?”

“Don’t need them.”  Sophie took a bite of what was either reindeer leg or star point.  “You’re the woman who sneaks a fertility blessing into every wedding, and I know where Nat is in her cycle.”

Ah.  More than one healer keeping an eye on their quiet yogini, hoping this might be the season that would deliver the long-awaited child.  “So many of us watching.”

Sophie shrugged.  “She helped me with potions a couple of days ago.  I know the signs.”

“Of course you do.”  It was one of the very first lessons they taught every healer.

 The younger woman smiled.  “A woman awaiting a baby, at the right time in her cycle for a little one to implant.  All that talk of power flowing this morning, and it wasn’t a huge leap to imagine you finding the urge to meddle rather irresistible.”

“I didn’t meddle.”  Moira thought back to the fierce magic that had danced in the ocean waters.  “We were playing with far too much power to dare to do that.  I only let the wishes we already carried resonate a little more clearly.”

“You would know how to do that better than anyone.”  Respect ran deep in Sophie’s words.  “You’ve always been the very best of us at amplifying the magic of the human heart.”

Well.  Moira fought back a sniffle—that would never do.  Not when there was already green goo in the picture.  She took another deep swallow of the vile stuff.  “It tired me enough that this is almost welcome.  I’ll thank you for that in another day or two.”

Her companion chuckled and held out a cookie.  “Here, have a reindeer chaser.”

She would.  As soon as she finished her glass.  The reindeer deserved to be properly appreciated before it discovered what else lived in her belly this morning.  “You’ll keep a close eye on Nat, then.”

“Yes.”  Sophie’s fingers clenched around her own cookie.  “We’ll know in a day or two.”

-o0o-

She’d taught this class every Wednesday morning for three years.  And for the last year or so, she had fought its descent into quiet torture.

She didn't get to be here and wallow over what hadn't yet arrived.  Even if she really wanted to.  They deserved much better than that.

Nat kept her breathing smooth as she distributed pillows and blankets and helped pregnant bellies settle into comfortable positions on their mats for the final relaxation pose.  She imagined little ones, some snuggling in a tight ball, close to their birthing time.  Others, still tiny and nimble, swimming and tumbling around their comforting liquid home.

It took everything she had not to lay a hand on her own belly.

In this class, that wouldn’t go unnoticed.

It had always awed her, watching the instinctive hand a mama in tree pose would settle on her still-flat belly.  Or the soothing rub to a rippling surface as a little foot made its presence known.  She smiled—that had so often been Kenna.  Not a quiet child, even before she’d emerged into the world.

She tucked a pillow under an awkwardly tilted head.  Helped her most pregnant client, awaiting her fifth baby, get her socks on.  Gently rubbed the shoulders of a woman who looked particularly tired.

And readied to lead them.

Some yoga teachers left people to their own devices in the final resting asana.  Nat had always loved to walk her students deep into themselves.  A guided visualization and communal meditation—a place to root as they left their mats and walked back into their lives.

But in this class, it had always been something more.  And today, it felt like it might tear her apart.

Usually, she managed to compartmentalize.  To help her students breathe into the connection, so primal, so deep, with the soul in their bellies—and to ignore the empty space in her own.

Today, a magical ocean dance still rippled through her chakras and insisted that she hope.

Today wasn’t going to compartmentalize at all.

So she exhaled, a big, deep, cleansing breath.  If hope was going to invade, then it was hope she would share.  “I usually take this part of class to remind you to stay in the moment.  To cherish
this
moment, because it's precious and delightful and it will never come again.  To embrace the kicks and the weird stretchy pains and the need to fart or squirm or hiccup because those are the things that mean this is entirely real."

Someone hiccupped in the corner and the room rumbled in quiet laughter.

Nat grinned.  Some days, the universe was a comedienne.

"Today, I'm not going to do that."  She listened as the rustling and shifting quieted again.  "Today I'm going to ask you to close your eyes and unpack one of your dreams.  We're going to walk together to that place beyond the grocery lists and the grams of protein we're supposed to eat and the worry that, even now, we might not be making the very best decisions for our babies."

A few soft exhales—she knew her students and what they feared.  "I want you to dip into the suitcase or the closet or the box of treasures where you keep the things you hope for.  Find one that includes the life growing in you."  Hands all over the room moved to bellies.

Nat gave in to need and joined them, her palm resting feather gentle just under her ribs.  "Float inside the awesome space that is you and bring that wish out into the light."  Her voice had settled now into the familiar, rhythmic cadence of guided meditation.  "Let your dream unfurl.  Maybe it has wings or petals or sails or a Superman cape."

More chuckles.  She'd learned from Witch Central—humor had a place in so many sacred moments. 

"And now we're going to do what we usually do.  We're going to sink into the moment.  But we're going to bring our hopes with us."  She took a deep breath and gently wrapped imaginary hands of light around her own aching wish.  "Today, these infinitely precious things we dream about and then tuck away get to stay out of our mental suitcases."