The Source (Witching Savannah, Book 2) (30 page)

His knees gave way, and he tumbled forward. “That,” I said as the other anchors rushed in to catch him, “
that
is how I will stop you. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding furiously as the others helped him balance.

“Good,” I said and reopened the haint-blue room’s exits for the last time. “Now, get out of here and tell the families to stay away from me. Stay away from my child. Stay away from my husband. Stay away from my family. And stay the hell away from Savannah.” The anchors who had remained fled the chamber and rushed into the realm of the living shadows, comforted, I am sure, to face the kind of adversaries to which they felt more accustomed. I made one last turn in the cerulean light, and then watched as Jilo’s chamber folded in on itself, sliding away only at the last possible moment before it disappeared for good.

FORTY-ONE

A truly vintage wedding dress from the 1940s, ivory silk with a cowl neckline and a low-draped back. A bouquet of white roses and blue hydrangeas. Both from Ellen. Iris had loaned me the pendant necklace I was wearing, which had been passed down through more than a hundred years of Taylor women, a diamond-encircled cabochon emerald above a drop-shaped emerald. Iris had also made me a gift of a new pair of emerald and diamond earrings, the emeralds’ color an astonishingly close match to the antique ones in the necklace. From Maisie, I stole a kiss, as she continued to live in her dreams.

Oliver, of course, would give me away. His other contribution to the event was that he’d convinced the justice of the peace and the parks authority with just three days’ notice to let us perform the service in Forsyth Park, where Peter and I had first met. Peter had the idea that we should marry at the foot of the oak we’d always called “the climbing tree,” the one with the lowest and sturdiest branches. No groomsmen, no bridesmaids. Just the two of us before God. Iris had balked at first when Peter and I had said we wanted a simple wedding, no fancy reception, just cake and a band in the park. In the end, she’d capitulated and had even taken out a full-page ad in the
Savannah Daily News
welcoming the whole darned town.

We had taken over a suite of rooms at the Mansion, and a team of hair and makeup artists were surrounding me, turning me into a fairy-tale princess, an image I’d never re-create under my own steam, even with magic. I loved every minute of it, though, because this day wasn’t just for me. It wasn’t even just for me and Peter. It was for the whole family. My aunts and uncle had arranged everything, devoting their attention to even the smallest details, although I had a surprise to spring on them as well.

“Shame on you,” I said as that surprise trudged into the room, dressed in chiffon the color of blue morning glories and a purple hat large enough to shade half of Savannah.

“Why shame on Jilo?” she asked, scanning me to try to find a place to land a kiss without messing up my hair or makeup.

I popped up and kissed her instead. “You know you aren’t supposed to outshine the bride.”

“Well, darlin’, Jilo can’t help it if the Lord has bestowed such blessings on her. Wouldn’t seem right to hide them.” She laughed, and took a seat on the foot of the bed. “Are you happy, girl?”

Tears started welling up in my eyes just as Ellen and Iris entered the room. “Yes,” I said. “Yes. I am very, very happy.” Jilo nodded in reply.

“Oh, now, now,” Iris said reaching for a tissue. “No waterworks until after the photos,” she said. Then she noticed Jilo. “Oh, Jilo. I am so glad you liked the hat. I knew it would suit you perfectly.”

“I love it. Thank you,” Jilo said softly and smiled. So much for my ability to surprise anyone. I looked at these three beautiful women. Each of them, in her own way, was a mother to me.

“Let’s loosen her hair a bit,” Ellen said to the stylist. Then she turned to me. “I’ve got a crazy idea,” she said. “It’s only that the thought of you and Peter marrying here in the park reminds me of when you were still a scrawny little tomboy. Well, since you aren’t wearing a full-length gown, how would you feel about doing this barefoot?”

A knock at the door interrupted the decision. “May the future mother-in-law come in?” Claire asked. We hadn’t seen each other since the day Ryder and Josef had barged into the bar. I hadn’t been purposely avoiding her, I had just been
busy
. I knew from her tone that she was concerned that I might actually turn her away.

“Of course,” I said, waving her in. “Would y’all mind if Claire and I had a moment alone?”

The assistants dropped everything as soon as I made the request, but my aunts exchanged a look before moving. Jilo grumbled a little under her breath, but then she worked her way off the foot of the bed. Once the room had been cleared, Claire stepped closer. “You, my dear girl, are breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” I said, reaching out to take her hand. “I am so sorry, Claire. For what I did to Peter—your natural son Peter, that is.” Heck, I should probably apologize for what I’d put her adopted son through as well, but I would spend the rest of my life doing my best to make it up to him.

“No, I am the one who’s sorry. It was only my grief and confusion talking. I know that you tried to help him and that he was already dead when you put your hands on him. I know,” she said, tapping her hand against her heart. “Listen, I have realized that the Fae did live up to their promise, just that time must move a bit differently in their world than in ours.” She paused. “When the police found him outside the powder magazine, he was wearing a heavy overcoat.”

“Yes, I remember it.”

“A fortune in gold and jewels had been sewn up in its lining. A fortune befitting a prince.”

“Yes, Jilo picked up on that and told me.”

“Well, Colin and I have been discussing what we should do with the proceeds from this unexpected windfall. We have decided to donate everything to the research of children’s cancer, because that, in the end, is really what took our Peter from us. We are donating everything he carried with him except this.” She opened her purse and pulled out a silver baby’s rattle, monogrammed with the initials PDT, Peter Daniel Tierney. “This belonged to him. We sent it with him,” she paused. “I cannot explain why—I don’t understand it myself—but it would mean the world to me if you’d carry this with you today, if you could find it in your heart to include our other Peter in your marriage to my adopted son.”

“I would consider it an honor,” I said, taking the rattle from her.

“I love you, Mercy Taylor,” Claire said, tears bursting from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.

“That’s Mercy Tierney,” I said.

Claire smiled through her tears and reached out with both hands to grasp my stomach. “And you too, you little monkey. Grandma loves you.” She stood and walked to the door. “I’ll send your entourage back in.” She smiled at me once more, then left.

I’d experienced the magical warping of time many times over now, but it couldn’t begin to compare to the way natural time moved on my wedding day. One moment I was sitting in the hotel, getting the final touches to my makeup and hair, and the next I stood in the park beside Oliver, waiting for the musical cue to start toward the climbing tree. “You good?” he asked, leaning back and taking in the full view of a niece so done up he could barely recognize her.

I lifted my bare foot and wiggled my newly polished toes. “Never better.”

Iris took honors as the first mother-of-the-bride. I watched as her new boyfriend, Sam, escorted her up the aisle. Ellen followed her as the second mother-of-the-bride. I had expected Peter’s buddy Tom to serve as her escort, but as I squinted against the sun, I realized that Ellen was holding on to Adam’s arm. It shocked me to see him there. He’d told me he was done with us, all of us, and I had believed it to be true. I didn’t know what had led to his change of heart, and frankly I did not care. I squeezed Oliver’s hand. “You good?” I asked.

His eyes were wide with surprise. “Never better,” he said, his face beaming.

Finally, Jilo, the third mother-of-the-bride, proceeded between the rows of white folding chairs on the arm of her great-grandson, Martell. As she settled into her seat, I heard big Colin call out to the band, “Strike ’er up, boys!” “Haste to the Wedding” came from the temporary bandstand Peter himself had helped build. Oliver looked at me with questioning eyes. I nodded once, and we wound our way through the open field. There, waiting beneath its sheltering limbs stood the man I loved, the man I had always loved, my Peter. I looked into his mismatched eyes and everything else faded away.

Next thing I knew, music was swelling up all around me as Peter spun me in his arms and the party officially began. The happy faces of well-wishers whisked in and out of view. I danced from Peter’s arms to Oliver’s to Colin’s. And then Adam stood before me. He bowed to me and extended his hand. I took it gladly.

I was pleased it was a waltz, and a slow one to boot. It gave me a chance to catch my breath and find out why Adam had changed his mind about us. “I’m so happy you’re here,” I said. “But what changed? I thought you’d seen too much, been pushed too far. I thought we’d lost you forever.”

“I thought so too,” he said, sadness creeping into his eyes, even though he was still smiling. “Emily showed me the worst side of you all. She showed me things I don’t think the rest of you know about yourselves.”

“Like what?” I asked, forgetting all about dancing.

He laughed and led me back into the dance. “There’s plenty of time to get into all that, but today is about celebrating. Like I said, Emily showed me the worst side of witches. But you and Iris and Ellen, and hell, even Oliver, y’all have shown me the best. You risked your life to save me. Besides, in spite of it all, I love that impossible uncle of yours. No matter what.”

Peter had been pulled aside by his buddies and was being fed whiskey chasers for the champagne he’d already been downing. “Not too much there, buster,” I called as Adam waltzed me past him.

“Just married and she’s already calling the shots,” one of Peter’s friends said and slapped him on the back.

“That’s fine by me,” Peter said and stole me back from Adam, but not before I’d placed a kiss on the detective’s cheek. Adam surrendered me to my husband, and Peter smiled down at me, holding me tight in his arms. And I, well, I had never felt more love before in my entire life. I knew toasts had been made, I knew we’d cut cake at some point, and I had vague recollections of being pulled in one direction and then the other by a photographer who was bound and determined to capture every moment. But I knew those moments would be the ones I’d always remember—standing in Peter’s arms, enjoying a golden, happy blur with everyone I loved around me, and the fine people of Savannah, even those who would not truly call themselves my friends. Before I realized it, the sun had slid to the western sky and was sending its light down at an angle that announced twilight would follow not far behind. And as the jigs had given way to waltzes, in fine Celtic tradition, with the setting of the sun, the waltzes gave way to a few tearful laments.

“We should get going soon,” Peter leaned in and whispered in my ear. I nodded my agreement. As an anchor, I couldn’t travel too far from Savannah for a honeymoon, so Oliver had arranged for us to enjoy a week’s stay on Sea Island. No one in their right mind would complain about that, but I would have settled for Tybee as long as I had Peter with me.

“The only thing left,” I said, “is to toss the bouquet.” I loosened the ribbon around the flowers and removed the baby rattle Claire had wanted me to carry.

“What’s that?” Peter asked, reaching to take it from my hand.

“Just something old from your mother. You go find her and give it back to her, okay? I’m going to go hunt down Jilo. She’ll never forgive me if I toss the bouquet and don’t aim it in her direction.”

“I think you are right about that,” Peter said and leaned in to kiss me. “I’ll meet you beneath the climbing tree?”

I nodded. “Always and for the rest of my life.” He had a hard time letting go of me, but my hand finally dropped from his as he headed toward the bandstand in search of his parents. My eyes followed him, not wanting to lose sight of him, but finally I turned my mind toward finding Jilo. I had little trouble picking her out as I scanned the field. She had moved away from the crowd, and was sitting in a white folding chair that had been moved into the shade of a live oak.

Her eyes were partially closed, giving her the appearance of a napping cat. “You sure are a beautiful girl,” she said, raising her head as I neared. “You Jilo’s girl, you know. Don’t you ever let anyone tell you otherwise, you hear? Jilo, she love you as sure as if she’d carried you.” I hiked up my skirt a little and knelt down before her. “You get up now,” she scolded. “You gonna ruin yo’ pretty dress.” She reached out and traced her hand along my cheek.

“My dress will be fine,” I said to her. I took her hand. “Peter and I need to leave soon. I’m going to toss the bouquet. Thought you might like a shot at catching it.”

The old woman of the crossroads laughed. “Girl, the last thing Jilo needin’ is another man to take care of. She done had more than her fair share, so you keep those flowers of yo’s good and far away from Mother.” She scanned the park, taking in the dappled light, the lingering crowd, and the last few strains of music. She drew a deep breath and sighed it back out. “You gonna be all right now, girl,” she said and shuddered. Her eyes glazed over; her hand went limp in mine.