more orders coming in from my Etsy store. I love doing this. It stretches me, makes me think, lets me create.
My new family has been very restrained. I expected to be inundated with phone calls and texts. Instead, I’ve received exactly one text message from each of Joe, Cassie, Felise, and Magan, all saying a variation of we know that was hard to hear, hope you’re doing okay, get in touch when you’re ready, and miss you.
They almost make me cry.
I lie in my bed, in the dark, staring at the ceiling. I press a hand to my stomach. This is my gut. What does it feel? I let myself examine my feelings, from my boredom and frustration at work, my love and gratitude for my friends, my thankfulness to the Candlers for being so welcoming and kind to me. I can question their sanity, but I have to acknowledge how they made me feel—accepted, even though they didn’t know me, appreciated, included.
I also think about the feelings I have around Trace. Attraction. Lust. Excitement. I’ve had boyfriends. I’ve had sex. I’ve felt those things before. But not like this.
This is whiskey compared to sweet wine. Vibrant colors instead of shades of gray. Sunshine and moonlight and fireworks.
Getting in touch with my feelings isn’t easy when I was encouraged my whole life to shut them down.
I slide out of bed and cross to the sliding door onto my deck. I open it and step outside. The wind blows the trees in uneven gusts, parting them at times to reveal the moon. It’s a waning crescent, the moon getting darker. I feel it’s a time for letting go of things.
What would have happened if Mom had been able to accept Joe’s story? I would have grown up with two parents. I don’t know what witch life is like. Apparently I would have gone to an academy to learn how to witch. I would already have been part of the Candler clan. How would my life have been different?
Can I let go of all Mom’s cautions? Can I let go of my fears? Can I believe in magic?
“You don’t have to be crazy to be part of this family,” Felise says, hands clasped together in front of her. “We’ll train you!”
I’m back at the Candler home.
I called Cassie, for some reason feeling she’d be sympathetic to my apprehension. And she was. She has a gentle and astute way about her and tried to put my fears at ease, totally understanding why I’d bolted the other night. And she’d suggested another family dinner, very casual, just to get to know each other a bit better.
We’re all sitting in the den, even Trace, who is watching me with an enigmatic expression on his face. I don’t know if he’s happy I’m here. I thought that was what he wanted. But he doesn’t seem very friendly.