Karma's Spell (Magical Midlife in Mystic Hollow Book 1) - Lacey Andersen (books for 5 year olds to read themselves TXT) 📗

Now, I just had to wait until nightfall. Time to see the vampires.

12

Emma

Ugh. I’d forgotten about the mess.

Deva had dropped me off at my house. It was nowhere near nightfall, the late afternoon sun mocking me, and therefore there wasn’t much we could do until we could talk to the vampires. Deva had to go deal with some stuff at her restaurant, and Carol had claimed she needed to open the store for at least a little bit.

With a sigh, I hung my purse on the hall tree and picked up a picture with the glass cracked right down the middle. It was of my brother with our parents. I could almost remember that day. We had gone to a cider mill and picked some apples from their orchard. Henry had been happy because they were fresh and crunchy. The sky had been a brilliantly clear blue which made the fall leaves look even brighter against it in the background. My heart panged thinking about our mom and dad.

The accident had been horrific. Sometimes I could feel the shattered glass under my hands and feet as I crawled out, and saw my parents crumpled in front seats. No child should have to see something like that. I knew death was unavoidable, I had my whole life since we lost my grandparents while I was still young, but someone dying versus being turned into mush by one of those oversized pickup trucks were two different things.

The funeral had been overwhelming. That's what happens when you live in a small town and everyone knows everyone else. Henry had locked himself in his room and just getting him to come to the ceremony had been a battle in and of itself, so when he did the same with the wake, I let him. Which meant it was me and the whole town. Everyone wanting to comfort me, and none of them being able to.

At the time, I'd felt like I was drifting alone on a sea of black. Black suits. Black dresses. Black hats. Black veils. Yes, some of the mourners were that dramatic. All of it punctuated by the white of the lilies that everyone brought. As if I needed flowers in that moment.

The food, on the other hand, was much appreciated.

It wasn't that I couldn't cook, that was something Mom had insisted that we both learn, but neither of us had the motivation to do anything other than call for takeout or heat up leftovers.

I pushed the memories away, knowing that this was a dangerous road to go down at the best of times, and with Henry missing and in trouble, I'd hardly call this the best of times. Swallowing thickly, I tried to focus on the present, but all that seemed to want to invade my thoughts was the past. I tried to sweep them from my mind by focusing on cleaning.

Righting a small table, I grabbed the rest of the picture frames that had rested on it. They’d survived without the glass breaking, somehow. As I positioned them on the table again, a picture of my son and ex-husband caught my eye.

Gross. Now I was stuck thinking about Rick and his froggy-went-a-courtin. I giggled and swiped at the tears on my face. What was I going to do about him being a frog, or toad, or whatever? It wasn’t like I’d turned into a witch that could do—or undo—spells. And even if I could, how would I find the right two toads in the garden? What if they’d hopped home? They could be anywhere in the world by now. Well, that might be a slight exaggeration, but they could certainly be far enough away from our old house that I didn't stand a chance of finding them.

Stumbling forward, I sank slowly down on the sofa as my breathing shallowed and panic gripped my throat. I stared at the picture of my son with his father and began to cry in earnest, sobs wracking my body. This wasn't a pretty cry. There was no dabbing daintily at my eyes with a handkerchief, oh, no. This was full-blown hiccuping, snot-bubble-forming, drooling crying. It was the kind of thing I could only let loose when I was alone.

This whole karma thing was fun, but I’d turned my son’s father into a toad. Then, instead of keeping track of him, left him outside. He was probably literally slimy now. Hopping around croaking at all the lady frogs or toads. I hoped they all ignored him.

A bubble of laughter warred with my tears, because damn if he hadn’t deserved it. It was that thought that finally had the sobs subsiding. I couldn’t decide if I felt guilty or relieved, but as I wrestled with my emotions, my phone rang in my pocket, a song I’d set just to mean Travis was calling.

Digging in my pants, I pulled the phone out, and nearly burst into another wave of tears when I saw the photo of my son on my lock screen. I took a few deep breaths to try to get the tears out of my voice, swallowing hard as I hit the speaker button, then set the phone beside me on the sofa. “Hey, buddy. What’s going on?”

“You okay, Mom? I just felt like I needed to talk to you all of a sudden.”

I sighed and opened the back of the frame with the picture of Travis and Rick in it. “I was having a moment. It’s like you called at the perfect time. You okay?”

“Yeah, I just got home to do some laundry. Where are you?”

I could almost see him wandering around the house, laundry spilling out of the bag he used since he waited too long to do it. I knew he'd have to go back through the house, picking up socks here and there, grabbing armfuls of t-shirts off the floor, and once he had it all together, I was sure he would overfill the