A Little Night Magic
A week later, Betty moved in.
"Stop treating me like a damn invalid," she said when I carried the last of her things to her room, where I'd made her sit on the bed while I puttered around her. "I'm fine."
"The doctor said you needed to rest for your first few days back." I set the suitcase of clothes Grace and Addie had rescued from her apartment down next to the bed. "You rest, or so help me, I'll duct tape you to that bed. What do you want for lunch?"
"I don't want lunch," she said. "I want you to sit down for five minutes and talk to me."
I hesitated for a moment. I'd spent the last week keeping busy, managing Millie's funeral, visiting Betty in the hospital, preparing the house for her to move in. Ordinary, mundane tasks had been my lifeline, and the idea of sitting and talking didn't necessarily appeal. But, since I'd never actually won an argument with Betty, I sat down at the desk chair and said, "What do you want to talk about?"
"I want to talk about you," she said. "How are you doing?"
I smiled. "I'm fine."
She stared at me, and I relented.
"I'm okay. I'm ... managing. The night magic takes a little getting used to, it's like it never turns off, you know?"
"Have you slept?"
"Sure." Not a full night, not more than a couple hours at a time, but I had slept. The nightmares were getting less and less frequent, so progress was being made. "I'm sleeping fine."
She nodded, but I could tell she didn't believe me. We fell into a silence, and then she said, "You know it's not your fault, right?" Her expression tightened a bit, and she added, "Everything that happened with Millie."
"I know." There was a noise down by my ankle, and I looked down to see Gibson bumping into the side of the bed. I glanced up to see Niles floating in circles above Gib, and I smiled as I picked Gibson up.
"Well, that's weird," Betty commented.
"They're inseparable," I said. "I think it's sweet."
"It is sweet," she said. "But your piece of paper's in love with your mug. It's also weird."
I gave her a small nod. "I concede the point." I got up, opened the empty bottom dresser drawer, and set Gibson into it to keep him safe for the time being. Niles floated down next to him and settled into the drawer as well.
"Weird." She sighed. "Still no word from Cain?"
"Nope, and I don't think we'll get any." By the morning after the showdown with Davina, Cain had disappeared. Stacy had talked about tracking him down, but I figured we wouldn't see him again until he wanted to be seen. I hoped that would happen someday, but who knew? Cain wasn't a terribly predictable kind of guy.
"So, what did you do with the body? Are we worried about Tobias going to jail? Do we need to find a good lawyer?"
I sat back down on the edge of the bed. "You know, Betty, we don't have to discuss - "
"I. Am. Not. An. Invalid," she said. "You've danced around this when I was in the hospital and I couldn't come after you because they had tubes in me. Now, however, I will hurt you."
I sighed. "It's possible that people might come around asking about Davina, but Cain said she didn't have any family, or friends, or any kind of employment that he was aware of, so if no one reports her missing, we're probably okay just not saying anything about it. But, just in case, Stacy took care of it."
Betty's brows knit for a second. "Stacy?" And then her face cleared. "Right. Fire. So she...?"
"Cremated her. Right there in the forest, and didn't catch anything else on fire. The girl had talent."
Betty raised her brow. "Had?"
"It was borrowed power, both her and Peach. Yesterday, Stacy had trouble lighting a match head." I remembered the disappointment on Stacy's face, and how she'd stalked away after the failure. "Possibly, that's a good thing."
"I think maybe," Betty said. "And what about Millie?"
I sighed. Millie's death had been harder to explain. We brought her in, told the hospital that we'd found her in the forest, and for lack of a better explanation for her injuries, they had deduced suicide by hanging. The note found at her apartment, written in Millie's careful hand, confirmed this, and we didn't say any different to anyone. I tried not to think about Millie, sitting alone at her desk, being forced to write the note against her will as Davina controlled her every move, but I couldn't get the image out of my head anyway. It was a small comfort that her fate had been sealed before we'd ever walked into that forest; Davina was never not going to end Millie that night, no matter what I did.
"I don't think anyone's going to question the suicide," I said. "It's not like Millie was the most balanced person in the world, even before Davina got here."
Betty nodded. "When's the memorial service?"
I looked down at my hands. "Tomorrow."
She reached over and took my hand, and we sat in silence for a little while, then I worked up a smile and said, "I have some gossip for you."
Betty's face lit up. "Oh, thank god. I was starting to get the shakes."
"Peach and Nick are back together. I'm not sure if they're re-engaged or not, but he's moving in next weekend."
Her expression flattened. "Oh, hell. Addie told me about that two days ago."
"Sorry. You'll get better gossip once we get CCB's back up and running. Speaking of which, work is coming along. Did Ray talk to you? He was supposed to tell you when he thinks it might be done."
"He swears by late August," Betty said. "Which in contractor speak means January at the earliest."
"Well, you can stay here as long as you need to," I said.
"Of course I can. You blew up my home and business." We shared a smile, and then she said, "And how's Tobias?"
I sighed. "I don't know. We haven't talked much since..." I lowered my eyes. "You know."
She nodded. "Yeah."
"I think he's worried that I'll never see him the same way again," I said. "And I'm worried that he'll never forgive me."
"Forgive you? For what?"
I thought back to that moment when I'd told him to leave, and I cringed once again at my own hubris and stupidity. "I was the reason Davina got him. He tried to take her down on his own because I'd sent him away. Then he killed her to save me."
Betty reached out and patted my hand. "Oh. Idiots in love. So heartwarming. And annoying." She reached up and gave me a light, playful slap on the face. "Talk to him."
"I know," I said. "I will. I just wanted to give him a little time." I didn't mention that I needed time, too. It would be a little while before I could gracefully handle bad news from that sector of my life.
At that moment, through the open window, the sparkly magic-square bluebird flew in through the window and landed on my shoulder. I smiled at it.
"Told you that square was magic," I said.
Betty laughed. "I'll never doubt you again."
"Damn straight." I took him off my shoulder and put him into the decorative cage that I'd brought into Betty's room. "I thought maybe you might like to keep him."
She got up and walked over to me, looking at the bird in the cage. I put my arm around her shoulders and hugged her to me. There were moments, more frequent with every day, in which the darkness from that night got chased away. When Tobias smiled at me, when Stacy and Peach came over with another crazy martini recipe to drink over rented movies; and now, with Betty next to me, healed and marveling at the magic-square bluebird.
"What are you going to name him?" I asked as she straightened up.
"I don't know. Linoleum?"
I laughed. "How about Linus?"
"Yeah," she said, angling her head at the bird. "Linus sounds good."
* * *
That Saturday, Peach and Stacy and I gathered on my patio after Millie's memorial service, a tray of margaritas sitting untouched on the table as we stood by my mother's garden of wildflowers. I held the urn containing Millie's ashes tightly against my stomach, then placed it in the middle of the garden, next to a similar urn that held my mother's ashes.
We didn't say anything for a long time, just stood there, the three of us holding hands. Tears dropped from Peach's face and she swiped at them periodically. Stacy's eyes were dry, but her hand clutched mine tight, and I could feel her pain reflecting my own as we stared down at the earthly remains of the woman we had all loved as a sister.
"I wish I'd gotten the chance to tell her I forgive her," Peach said finally, sniffling. She looked at me, her eyes red-rimmed and overflowing. "You know, for all that with Nick."
I nodded toward the urn. "Tell her now."
Peach's lower lip trembled, and she released my hand, then stepped forward. She lowered her head and said, "It's okay. I forgive you, Millie. And I love you." Her voice cracked on this last part. She blew a kiss to the urn, stepped back, and joined the three of us again.
I turned to Stacy. "Is there anything you want to say to her?"
"Then tell her," I said.
Stacy watched me for a minute, her expression hard but contemplative, and then she stepped forward.
"You were stupid," she said. "You had friends. We would have helped you. You didn't need to do what you did, and you didn't need to die, you dumbass." She stood there, her back to us, for a while, and I saw her swipe at her eyes before turning back to face us.
"Your turn," she said to me.
I stepped forward, staring down into the wildflowers my mother had cultivated so absently for all those years, simply so she'd have something to stare at while she thought about my father. And now here they were, together, my mother who had replaced Millie's missing one, and Millie, who had given my mother the second daughter she'd lost. It was a tragic end to a tragic tale, and there was only one thing I could think of to say.
"I'm sorry," I said.
I turned to Peach and Stacy, and we nodded at each other, then walked to the patio table where our margaritas had been waiting. At the base of Millie's urn, one by one, we poured our drinks into the ground, and then went inside.
* * *
"Step away from the square, Kiskey."
I looked up from my feet. In the two weeks since reconstruction had started, our first major hurdle - CCB's dining-room floor - was finally done, complete with one blue sparkly square, just a few feet from where Booth 9 would someday be, and right next to where I was futilely attempting to sweep up the endless construction dust at the moment.
"Hey, stranger," I said as Tobias crossed the sunny dining room to where I was standing.
He stopped a few feet away, and tucked his hands in his jean pockets, his hunched posture reminding me vaguely of a little boy about to get scolded. This was only the third time I'd seen him since that night, and the first time since Millie's memorial service, where he'd disappeared before we got the chance to talk to each other, so I could see why he was a little worried about how I'd respond to seeing him again. I was a little worried, myself.
"I'm sorry I haven't been around," he said after a while.
"It's okay. I understand." I gripped the broom handle tightly in my hand, curling it in to me.
"I knew things were busy for you," he said, "with putting this place back together, and the memorial service and everything."
"Yeah," I said. "Thank you for coming, by the way."
"Of course." He hesitated a moment, then said, "So, how are you doing? You okay?"
I nodded, and looked up at him. "You?"
He shook his head, but kept his eyes on mine. "No. Not really."
I took in a breath and lowered my eyes as my heart beat raggedly in my chest. "Oh."
"I miss you."
I looked up at him. "You do?"
"I know you probably don't want to see me - "
"Don't want to see you?"
" - after everything that happened - "
"Are you insane?"
He blinked, his eyes uncomprehending. "You watched me kill someone."
"Yeah, while saving my life. I thought you didn't want to see me, because it was all my fault."
He took a step toward me. "No. You just seemed so upset whenever you looked at me. I thought I upset you."
"I was upset because my best friend died," I said. "And because it's a little traumatizing when a magical wingnut tries to kill you. Mostly, I was upset because I missed you, but I didn't want to push because I thought..." I trailed off, and then we both laughed, and I said without thinking, "Idiots in love."
His smile faded a bit, and I cringed.
"I'm sorry ... I didn't mean ... it's just something Betty said."
"No, we're definitely idiots in love," he said, his expression serious. "At least, one of us is."
"An idiot or in love?" I said. "And are you talking about you or me?"
"Are you still going to Europe?" he asked, ignoring my question.
I took a breath. "Yeah. Two weeks from Friday."
"Oh." He nodded, swallowed, and pulled on a smile. "It'll be good for you to get away."
"It's just ... I already bought the ticket and got my passport..."
"No, no. That's good." He forced a full smile. "That'll be good for you."
"I'm coming back," I said.
His brow, which had furrowed a bit, smoothed out in surprise. "You are?"
I nodded. "I changed my ticket to return after two weeks."
"Oh. Good."
He smiled and we stood there in awkward silence for a long moment. Then I let the broom clatter to the floor, took his face in my hands, and kissed him. He kissed me back, his arms wrapping naturally around my waist. We indulged in each other for a while, and then I pulled back to look at him.
"I love you," I said. "I will always love you, and nothing in the world is ever going to change that, so I'm accepting it now, and I'm telling you. No more idiots in love."
He smiled. "No more idiots in love." He leaned in and kissed me again, then hugged me tight.
"I love you," he whispered into my ear. "I've been miserable these past few weeks."
"Me, too. Let's not do that again."
"Deal." He released me, and I reached up and touched his face, my smile widening as the tension drained from me. "Come to Europe with me."
His expression darkened a bit. "I can't."
"Oh." I lowered my hand. "Okay."
"I want to, but if I leave the country without telling the company..."
"Hell. You have to get permission? Really?"
He nodded. "And if they think I'm a flight risk, they could come take me."
"A flight risk? Jesus, what are you? A prisoner?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Kinda. But ... go. Have your fun in Europe. Get away, and have a good time. You've earned it." He took a step forward, put his warm palm against my cheek, and looked deep into my eyes. "Then come back to me."
"I will." I put my arms around his neck and hugged him to me.
"And take a picture with every goat," he said. "I want you to be reminded how much I love you every time you see one."
I stepped back and looked up at him. "Oh, hell."
"What?"
"Goats are gonna be a thing with us now," I said. "Every anniversary for the rest of my life, I'm gonna get goats. I can see it now. Goat stationery, goat slippers, stuffed goats."
He smiled. "Or real ones."
I laughed. "I'm gonna be lousy with goats, just like Europe."
"No," he said. "We're going to be lousy with goats."
I smiled up at him. "Damn right, we are," I said, and then he took me into his arms, and we stopped talking.