Page 7 of Whiskey & Witches
Carrick expelled a long breath in his relief. He wasn’t sure why he feared failure—maybe because their family’s luck had been shite for what felt like forever—but he had. Perhaps there was a subconscious worry what Roisin gave him wouldn’t work, and once again, he’d let down his son.
“I’m happy to lend my magic to the cause,” Piper offered. “I know Cousin GiGi would help as well. She’s the most skilled healer I’ve ever encountered and would willingly confer with the witch who gave this to you.”
Embarrassment caused Carrick’s neck to heat, and he scratched behind his left ear. His wife would’ve teased him had she been around to see. Roisin never missed those small gestures that gave him away and used to delight in every one. A fresh wave of sadness washed over him, and the air seized in his lungs. The first indication of a panic attack began with the crawling sensation under his skin and his need to be anywhere but where he was. He’d started having these episodes when Roisin failed to wake after the wreck. They were rare but tended to creep up on him at the oddest moments, like now.
For seven full years, he’d believed the ill-luck haunting the O’Malleys had passed him by. But the accident changed his thinking and had left him wondering why he’d been arrogant enough to dream he, of all people, was special.
He took a few deep, calming breaths and counted back from ten.
“Carrick? Are you okay?”
He shook his head in an attempt to let go of the past and dispel the remaining anxiety.
“Sorry.” A glance showed Aeden watched him, his blond brows drawn together. Carrick forced a smile for his son’s benefit and held up the potion. “Ready to craic on?”
* * *
Roisin was alertedat the exact moment her spell had been used. She’d charmed the elixir so she’d know if Aeden was taking it as prescribed. If he wasn’t, she’d intended to blister Carrick’s ears.
Swiping a hand over the silver-framed scrying mirror in front of her, she watched her small family as they performed the ritual. She saw the dark-haired witch interact with Aeden, and for the first time since she’d been spying on her husband and son, she witnessed Aeden’s pink lips twist in a semblance of a smile for Piper Thorne.
Roisin’s heart spasmed to know he’d never again look at her with such unguarded love. No, she’d frightened him the day of the accident and in the days that followed. Some inner part of him recognized she was responsible for all his woes. It didn’t stop her from scrying or from seeing Carrick’s eyes fill with something other than pain for the first time since she woke.
On rare occasions, she’d seen a fleeting glimpse of more in his green eyes. Eyes that, when happy, rivaled the rolling emerald fields ofÉire. Eyes that saw through her most times.
She shivered.
Should he ever guess the truth, those magnificent eyes would be forever dark; she failed to protect their son when it counted. As it was, he couldn’t understand why she’d been traveling with Meg to begin with. He’d known all about their continual strife. But he didn’t know about the rest, and until she unraveled the threads of the mystery herself, she would keep silent.
With a swipe of her hand, Roisin hid the sweet scene at Carrick’s from view. She didn’t want to see another woman in the role she coveted for herself, whether it was an innocent relationship or no. Roisin chided herself on her foolishness. Jealousy had no place in her current, miserable existence, and she needed to keep her stronger emotions in check.
Heaving a heavy sigh, she returned the mirror to the sideboard between her tiny kitchen and living area. She added the trio of candles on top. Should she ever have a visitor, they wouldn’t see it as anything other than decor, certainly not the instrument she used to torture herself daily. They’d simply see Meghan Byrne, the surly Witch of the Woods who made potions for people for money and who despised their village as a whole.
A glance out the window showed the afternoon weather was mild and the sun shining. A perfect time to work in the yard and get her mind off what might never be. She gathered a basket, gardening gloves, and a straw hat. Within twenty minutes, she’d pruned all the bushes and discarded her gloves to get lost in the sensation of dirt sifting through her fingers.
Goddess, she loved gardening, as did all earth elementals. The soil fed her soul and strengthened her magic. Working this patch was the only time she felt truly centered and as if she were part of something greater. Although, what that larger thing could be, she was clueless to know. Her life had taken a tragic turn, and she was as isolated as any living being could be. Alone. No friends. No lover to whisper sweet nothings or to caress late at night when she missed human contact the most.
“Evil witch!”
Taken by surprise, she didn’t move fast enough, and a large, jagged rock hit her on the shoulder. She twisted in time to avoid the second stone, narrowly avoiding having her unmarred cheek struck.
“Husband stealer!”
Whack! Another rock.
“Skanky hag!”
Those little feckers must’ve searched for the sharpest damned stones they could find. Two more hit her in rapid succession before she had the presence of mind to react. Placing her hands on the ground, she directed a blast of energy toward the three teenage boys. The trees’ branches swept dangerously close to their heads, and the ground buckled, knocking her attackers flat on their backsides.
Their cries of fear gave her a fierce sense of satisfaction. As Roisin, she’d never have thought to retaliate, but posing as her sister, it seemed like every day she turned meaner, more Meg-like. She experienced a small pang of regret that she’d never tried to understand her sister better. Meg had her reasons for her bitterness and anger, but Ro had stopped trying to get through to her years before. Or she had until the day of the accident, when Meg insisted they talk, that she had something important to relay. But she died before she could, and the fact tormented Roisin daily. Whatever Meg had intended to say had died with her that day.
She couldn’t climb to her feet because her back had gone into spasm when she’d twisted, but she continued to send milder shock waves toward the boys until they scrambled up and ran down the dirt lane. When she knew she was safe, she sent her thanks and the last remnants of her magic to the trees to repair what her anger had wrought. Easing onto her back, she watched the clouds gather in the late afternoon sky.
A lone tear rolled down from the outer corner of her eye into her hairline. She was so lonely. Why did she stay in this goddess-forsaken place? She had the power to go anywhere in the world. Why did she torture herself and allow the ridicule from those ignorant of who she was?
“Ro!” Carrick’s concerned cry reached her seconds before he did.
Hewas why she stayed.
