Read Online The Witch of Belladonna Bay by Suzanne Palmieri - Free Book Online

used to a steady hand, what would happen … who would I be without it?
    â€œWelcome home,” Minerva said from behind me. Her lavender and bleach scent hit me before her words did. A comfort from days long gone. She’d always sensed when I needed her, I guess some things never do change.
    â€œMay I sit by you?” she asked.
    I stood up and gave her a real hug. It was so damn good to see her.
    She still had her signature red hair. Maybe she dyed it, it didn’t matter. I wanted to stare at it forever.
    We sat down side by side.
    â€œYou look good, Min,” I said.
    And she did. Older, sure … thinner, too. But her eyes were still that same steel blue that always made me think she’d stared at a stormy northern sea too long.
    â€œCongratulations on your marriage.” I said, trying to sound light and airy. “Carter seems like a fine man.”
    That’s when I noticed that he’d slipped away at some point … quietly, like a cat.
    â€œHe’s a good egg,” said Minerva. “And he’s been a godsend for Patrick. I guess you could say he’s ‘fine’ … for an old man, and a Southern cracker.”
    â€œOh hell, Minerva, you still fancy yourself a Yankee?”
    â€œSure I do. Nothing will ever change that. I’m too ornery to be one of these frolicky people.” Her eyes flicked to my left hand. I could feel her tense up next to me, but she didn’t say anything.
    â€œYep, I’m engaged. I was going to tell everyone later,” I said softly.
    â€œWell, isn’t that nice. I mean wonderful! Never mind me. I’m just so happy to see you. We’ll talk about that pretty ring and your fiancé later.”
    â€œMinerva, are you all right? You seem upset.” She’d gotten colder, further away from me somehow, but I couldn’t understand why, when a minute before she’d seemed like the same old Minerva. Maybe she was harboring some anger against me for leaving, and it just found its way through cracks in our small talk.
    â€œDon’t worry. I’m just happy to see you. Getting used to looking at your face all grown up. We need to readjust, that’s all,” she said, patting my arm.
    â€œMinerva?” I asked, taking her hand.
    â€œWhat, honey?”
    â€œWhy didn’t you write to me? I mean, I know I didn’t write to you, either. But why not drop a line when you were getting married? Or when Paddy first got in trouble? For Lottie’s funeral? Or even just to try and convince me to come home after Byrd’s mother died?”
    I thought she’d pull her hand from mine. No one likes to be accused of anything, but she didn’t.
    â€œWell, I should have. So why don’t we just chalk it up to ‘out of sight out of mind.’ I hope that doesn’t sound cruel, Bronwyn. I just think my whole family—the Greens—we’re wired that way. It’s not that I ever stopped loving you or thinking about you. It’s just that if you aren’t here in front of me, it’s hard to remember to sew you into the quilt of the present. No one should understand that better than you, sitting here, right now.”
    Minerva always had a way with words. And she sure loved the hell out of that quilt analogy. She always told Paddy and me that each new day in our lives was a new story square for the quilt that would be the history of us when we were gone.
    I pulled her hand to my face and rested on it for a bit. Sometimes a grown woman needs to feel like a little girl again.
    â€œAnd anyway,” she continued, rubbing my cheek with her thumb, “I wasn’t sure you wanted to be found. Or called on, even. You left. Sometimes that’s the best thing for a person. No one was going to convince you to come back until you were ready. And now?” She pulled my face up, cupped my chin in her hands, and looked at me. “Now I know you want to be