and that way you could meet lots of people and stuff."
She waited expectantly, ten-year-old organizer on a mission.
And Nell literally felt Beth's brain tie in a knot. Crap. She leaned forward. "That's a nice offer, girls. How about you give Beth a little time to think about it?"
Ginia looked confused. "We have some really easy jobs she could do, Mama. She could help Lizard with streamers, or Uncle Jamie with the glitter wands, or Sierra with the soundproofing, or - " She looked to her sisters for more suggestions.
Beth's brain was practically shaking.
Nell felt her temper firing up. Easy welcome streamed from her girls - and Beth was reacting like she was under machine-gun fire. She touched Ginia's shoulder, trying to get mama bear back on the leash. "Those are all good ideas. Why don't you go grab some cookies?" She added a gentle mental shove behind the words, and this time her triplets caught the unsaid message.
Three subdued girls made their way into the house. Nell tried to resist the urge to kick at the woman who had deflated their everyday joy. "They're excited about the party. Sorry if they were a bit overwhelming." Her next sentence steamed out of its own accord. "Most people who come here for training want to be included in our lives."
"I'm very tired." Beth's words were barely audible. "I need to go now."
Failure loomed large. Stirred up as she was, Nell reached out, trying to stall its landing - and jerked back as an agitated witch flinched from her touch.
"I'm sorry." The words were tight and totally lacking in emotion, not at all a match for the distraught mind behind them. "I don't like to be touched by strangers. And I don't like parties. I'm... Coming here was a poor decision." She stood, on legs that weren't entirely steady.
Nell jammed her hands into her lap and wondered what the hell else to reach out with. "I'm the one who's sorry. I've made a total mess of your first lesson." And lessons seemed to be all Beth cared about.
Distant eyes looked off into the trees. And then her trainee turned to go. "I don't think you can help me."
It sounded very final.
-o0o-
Lauren was fairly certain she'd never seen Nell Walker look ashamed. But she looked that way now.
Nell sat on the couch in Witches' Lounge, an ignored cookie in her hand, and radiated a mix of angst, regret, confusion, and self-flagellation.
"I totally blew it." Nell looked up, eyes bleak. "You told us what she needed, and I didn't listen."
It wasn't often that the core of Witch Central got shaky. Nell had been born strong, and being Aervyn's mother had only made her tougher. Lauren sat down on the couch and passed over the coffee. It wasn't a case of not listening - Nell still didn't really understand.
And Lauren had no idea how to fix that. "One step at a time. Let's wait for Moira so you don't have to repeat yourself. She should be here any minute."
The timing sucked. Sophie was in the middle of a particularly tricky potion and had looked rather green at the thought of leaving Lizzie in charge. And Nat was napping with an exhausted Kenna on her chest.
"Impatient Americans." Moira landed with a tea cup in her hand and a plate of treats nestled in her skirts. "A good story blooms in the retelling, and Aaron had fresh scones in the oven."
Lauren didn't miss her concerned glance at the woman who had summoned them.
"This isn't a good story." Nell's voice was as flat as her mind. "I've been training witches for what, fifteen years?"
"Oh, longer than that, my dear." Moira handed out scones and a bright green jelly that smelled like Christmas. "You've always had a talent for bringing out the magic in others, ever since you were a little one."
"I got Beth exactly nowhere. We clashed over a simple fire globe for ten minutes, wedged in between my son's supersonic drum disaster and my daughters presuming she wanted herding like every other witch they've ever met."
Lauren tried not to wince. That wasn't exactly a slow introduction to Witch Central.
"Well, your home can be a mite overwhelming," said Moira