Prelude to a Witch by Amanda Lee (best motivational books for students TXT) 📗

“I prefer sleeping in Sam’s shirts,” Clove growled, referring to her husband, a man for whom I had infinite sympathy because Clove’s moods were impossible to gauge from one moment to the next.

“Uh-huh.” Thistle was having none of it. “Listen, I don’t want to pick on you — and the Goddess knows I don’t want to agree with Aunt Tillie — but you eat three times as much as Landon now. You’re eating way too much.”

“Hey!” Landon’s face clouded with annoyance. “I eat just enough to survive.”

That earned a raised eyebrow from me, but I chose to focus on my work.

“It’s true,” Landon insisted when he registered the uncomfortable silence that had descended over the table. “I eat just enough to stay alive. Tell them, Bay.”

“Hmm.” I feigned as though I hadn’t been listening. “Sorry. I need to focus on what I’m doing.”

Thistle snorted as Landon growled. “At least you work out a lot,” she said. “You and Bay hike and you go to the gym for your job. Clove hasn’t been doing anything but sitting on the couch like a great lump for weeks.”

“That’s not true.” Despite Thistle’s accusations, Clove kept shoveling bits of doughnut into her mouth. “The baby is hungry. It’s not my fault.”

“If you keep feeding that baby it’ll be twelve pounds when you give birth,” Aunt Tillie warned as she sidled closer to me. “Do you have any idea how much that’s going to hurt?”

I looked to her, enraged. “What have we told you about frightening her with birth stories?” I demanded.

Aunt Tillie became the picture of innocence. “I have no idea what you mean. I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Yeah, right,” Thistle muttered. “You know I have to deal with her when she has panic attacks in the middle of the afternoon. Do you know how many times she’s held up a watermelon and compared it to an orange to explain the birthing process? I don’t know either, but it’s a heckuva lot.”

The men at the table cringed in unison as Thistle painted the terrifying picture. Warren ultimately stepped forward to soothe his daughter.

“You’re beautiful,” he reassured her. “Don’t listen to them. They’re just messing with you.”

“That is the Winchester way,” Dad agreed. “We should stop picking on Clove and start picking on Bay. Have you decided on a honeymoon location? I’d really like that to be my gift.”

“We have been talking about that,” Landon said, his hand still moving over my back. “There’s an island Bay wants to visit – Moonstone Bay. You shouldn’t have to pay for the trip, I have money put away.”

Dad insisted. “I want to pay for it. I’ve been gone for much of Bay’s life. It’s the least I can do.”

Landon darted his eyes to me. “Bay won’t come out and say it, but she wants me to allow you to pay for the honeymoon. How about we split the difference and you pay for the plane tickets and I’ll handle everything else?”

I thought for certain my father would argue, but he nodded. “Fine, but when you guys build that house, I’m going all out for a housewarming gift.”

Landon leaned back in his chair, relief radiating from him. He hated arguing with my father, if only because he knew it agitated me. “I’ll give you the dates and you can purchase the tickets.”

“Great.” Dad beamed at him. “I’m also going to buy cooking equipment for your new house. I was at the guesthouse the other day; you two have three pots.”

“That’s because we don’t cook,” I replied, finishing up my first sketch and ripping it from the pad.

Landon took it from me and stared. “Do you recognize this?”

“No.” I stared at the drawn rune for a moment and went back to drawing. “I only got a good look at two of them. I think there were four, a different one on each tree.”

Before Landon could speak again, Aunt Tillie took the drawing from him.

“This looks familiar,” she said. “Where did you find this?”

“They were drawn in blood on the trees,” Landon answered. “Bay saw them even though they shouldn’t have been visible. The Michigan State Police are sending out an evidence team. I’m going to have them spray luminol on the trees and photograph the runes.”

“That’s smart.” Aunt Tillie cocked her head. “I swear I’ve seen this before, but I can’t place where.”

“You can help with the research later,” I suggested.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound fun.” Aunt Tillie said. “Who has the bedroom right at the top of the stairs?”

Dad straightened as the conversation shifted yet again. “I wondered where you disappeared to. I believe we told you to stay on the main floor.”

“If I only did what I was told I would have no fun at all,” Aunt Tillie groused. “Your laundry is gross, by the way. It smells like mildew. You need to make sure your clothes are dry before you toss them in the hamper.”

Dad’s glare was dark. “You went through my hamper? What is wrong with you?”

“Oh, there are so many ways to answer that question,” Thistle drawled. “I’ve started a list. Would you like me to recite it?”

“Not really.” Dad said. “Tillie, as thrilled as we are when you visit — and we are truly thrilled — it would be great if you didn’t go through our things when you’re here.”

“Yeah, I’m going to keep doing what I want.” Aunt Tillie moved to the other side of Landon and sat. “What were we talking about again?”

“Nothing important,” Landon replied. “I need to get actual statements before you guys return to picking on Clove’s eating habits.” He reached out to snag one of the doughnuts at the same time Clove decided to claim it.

“That’s the last maple and bacon one,” Clove announced, refusing to move her hand.

“I know. I can smell it.” Landon kept his hand in place. “Haven’t you eaten, like, five of them?”

“One,” Clove protested.

This time Warren couldn’t contain his