of lights.
She looked around one more time, seeking the place that still needed light.
And then she knew. Meeting Liri's eyes, she clutched the tangled nest of wires to her heart. They would travel back with her in the morning.
Lights from home.
-o0o-
Nell set her kettle on for tea and took a seat at her kitchen table, ears baffled by the quiet.
The noisemakers were still at Jamie's house, the triplets were curled up reading in their room after helping to assemble the biggest bouquet in the history of Witch Central garden raids, Lauren and Nat had headed off to yoga class, and apparently the Walkers hadn't adopted any stray children or puppy dogs in the last twenty-four hours.
Moira patted her hand. "Enjoy a moment of rest - it's very well deserved."
Dragon decorating had been a raging success, one that had helped ease the guilt in Nell's belly a little. And the birthday witchlings would drool over the results. "All I did was requisition enough crayons."
"Hardly, my dear. You're raising three beautiful girls capable of loving someone the way they need to be loved. You stand at the heart of a community that does the same every single day." Moira's hands punctuated her words. "And I do believe this particular event was your idea."
"I sat in a corner and colored dragon legs." And had stayed carefully out of the way of the many people in her life who had far better instincts for making Beth comfortable.
"Yes, you did. And they were lovely legs too." Irish eyes asked for the rest of what ailed her.
She'd been a passenger. "It doesn't feel like enough. Like I did enough."
"When most people walk in a garden, all they see are the flowers." Moira's fingers trickled through a few blooms one of the girls had left in a lopsided vase on the table. "They don't see the gardener who comes through every day and makes sure they have water."
Nell smiled at the woman who had always been the witching community's best waterer. "I'm pretty sure that's a bad analogy to use with a fire witch."
"Mayhap. But I'm elderly and frail of mind, and I couldn't come up with a better one."
Nell nearly snorted flower petals up her nose. "Your mind is about as frail as a semi truck."
The tea kettle began to whistle, and Moira stood up, amused. "I've some nice rooibos left from the batch I made for Beth, if you'd like some of that."
So long as it came with a heaping spoonful of sugar, she was fine with frou-frou tea. "I'm no gardener."
The gaze Moira leveled at her would have had lesser witches scrambling for cover. "You're the core of this place, and you do no one any favors by denying it."
"I'm just a fighter." Nell unclenched her fists, entirely unclear why she was fighting something she already knew.
"I'm Irish, love." Moira's hand settled on her hunched shoulder. "The best of our leaders have always been warriors. And mothers too."
Nell sucked in a shaking breath. "You think it was the right thing to send her home?"
Moira took two cups off the rack. "You don't?"
"I don't know." Nell resisted the urge to destroy sugar packets. "I'm afraid she won't come back." And they'd finally started to get somewhere.
"She might not." The soft clinks of the tea-making ritual somehow gentled the words. "But whether she does or not, it will be a choice. One made with a better understanding of who we really are."
They were more than dragons and quiet basement coloring parties. "I guess I was hoping she'd have a chance to see more of us first."
Moira turned, sugar bowl in her hand, and came to sit at the table. "Trust this place you water with such care."
The water metaphors were making Nell's magic squirmy. "I want her to feel at home here."
"Of course you do." Moira looked out the window a moment. "But this place of sun and light isn't home for all of us. We have roots in various places that we also need to nurture. Beth needed to breathe in her own garden for a bit. She'll be back."
"You seem so sure." As did three girls who would be very sad if their new friend didn't return.
"This isn't home." Moira's