Heart of the Secret: A Witches of Lane County Novella Read online

  Table of Contents

  Heart of the Secret

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Thirteen Months Later

  Other Works Available

  About the Author

  Read a Preview of A Witch's Fate

  More from Jody A. Kessler

  On the Back Cover

  Heart of the Secret

  A Witches of Lane County Novella

  Jody A. Kessler

  Copyright

  © 2016 by Jody A. Kessler

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator.”

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  E book ASIN: B0182MKM1Y

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  Ebooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To Jamie

  Chapter One

  “When you finally marry me, Aspen Morgan, we’ll live right here,” Rook says while lying on his back, daydreaming beneath the perfect sun-drenched sky.

  He reaches across our picnic blanket and takes my hand in his. My bones feel delicate in his strong, muscular grip as he tucks it neatly against the front of his chest. His love seems to trickle all the way from his heart down to his fingertips warming my cool skin.

  How does the saying go? Cold hands, warm heart? I wish that were the case. But it seems that like Rook’s warm hands, his heart is continually handing out love and affection, and in perfect contrast, my icy touch resembles the chill that always shadows my heart.

  Don’t misunderstand me. I’m in love with Rook Avesbury. More in love than I ever thought possible. But life as a Morgan doesn’t include marriage.

  What I wouldn’t give to be allowed to let this blossom into the relationship he wants. The relationship we both want. Unfortunately, history, along with the family I was born into, isn’t going to allow Rook and I to have much more than a fling no matter how deeply I long for more.

  He releases my hand and pushes himself up. “We’re sitting in the exact spot of our future home. If you want, I’ll make us a porch swing so we can watch the sun set together and then wait for Castor and Pollux to reveal themselves in the night sky.”

  I raise a wary eyebrow at him.

  “See those trees?” He points to the west where a line of tall pines block the view of the Pacific. “I’ll cut them down and build a barn for Snowdrop and Perry out of the timber. Then nothing will block our view.”

  “Rook, you’re too much. You know I love this land, but it’s yours, and I don’t want you making promises when I can’t commit. It’s too soon and I can’t get married.” I’ve been repeating these words for too long and too many times. Maybe not out loud, but at least in my own mind. Months have flittered by when I meant to end things with him after the first few weeks. How have I let this continue for so long? I’ve lost count of the days—and the months. Life has become like the dance of the whirling dervish since Rook found me on the beach walking Basil.

  “Nothing is too much for you. If you don’t want to live here with me after I get back from the astronomy internship, then we can go wherever you want. I’d live in Quebec, or Yugoslavia, or even on the far side of Jupiter as long as you agree to let me come with you.”

  “Does Jupiter have a backside? I know he has an eye, but the anatomy of a planet is out of my scope of knowledge. And we wouldn’t want to move there without checking out the neighborhood and the schools.”

  “You’re a very funny girl, aren’t you?” he says, not a bit amused. “Now listen to me,” he adds, his voice becoming more serious. “Callisto and Europa will have to wait a few years. We’ll get settled right here on the northwest coast and then we’ll see about traveling to worlds beyond our imagination.”

  “Who in heaven’s name are Callisto and Europa?” I ask, feigning naiveté. We both know that astronomy and astrology are two subjects that any respectable witch cannot escape, having had them shoved down her throat from the time she is old enough to glance up at the stars.

  He raises a stern but sensible brow at me, and the corner of his mouth almost cracks with the good-natured humor that I know is his normal mind-set. But he hangs in there and doesn’t break character just yet. “Okay. I take it back. The moons of Jupiter would hardly be a suitable place for the love of my life. You’ll have to adjust to living on my land where you can have all the freedoms of the forest and the sea. It’ll be a sacrifice, I know, but I have faith in you.”

  I smack his thigh playfully with the back of my hand for being facetious and silly. Sometimes I think the man was born in the wrong time. I’m not sure what period in history he should have been born in, but the twenty-first century doesn’t seem appropriate for such a sappy romantic.

  He captures my hand once more and presses his lips to my knuckles. All I can do is give him a bemused smile and then look away attempting to hide my regret. How can I begin to tell him the women in my family don’t get married? We don’t settle down to raise children with the men of our dreams. All the Morgan women for as long as anyone can remember have been single. There are a few stories about great loves, but the greater the love, the more profound the loss. How could I do that to Rook? Just look at those eyes. Full of promises and dreams and a hope for a future that I can’t give him. He doesn’t deserve tragedy. He doesn’t deserve me.

  “Aspen, why is this the part that always makes you clam up? What is it you’re not saying? I know you. You don’t think that after seven months I know you as well as I claim to, but the truth is, I knew you from the second I looked into your golden-brown eyes. You were smitten with me, and trying not to show it, but I could see straight through you that day on the beach, and I still can.”

  Is it fair that Rook is so sensitive? How can a man with such strength and power, and with a body the gods would envy, be so perceptive as well? He shouldn’t be allowed to have so many positive attributes. Although, if you were to ask him, he’d say his sensitivity was a negative quality, not a positive one. Most people don’t make accurate assessments about the gifts they’re given in life and Rook is no exception.

  I try to explain. “The best human faults don’t hurt others. Like self-sabotage. Only one person gets injured. But then there’s me. I have the other kind of flaw. The kind that causes tears and misunderstanding. I can’t be in a committed relationship, Rook. And I can’t tell you why, other than to say I’m not the marrying kind of girl.” There are too man
y words coming out of my mouth, but not enough clarification. The real explanation can’t be said aloud. I’m making the situation between us worse so I shut my trap and refuse to bury myself deeper in the mire of miscommunication.

  His eyes implore mine and I have to look away. He doesn’t admit his observations often, so I know this must be heavy on his mind.

  “You’re already committed to me. Don’t try to deny it. You haven’t looked at a single suitor since we met.”

  I know he can see the truth in me. It’s wonderful and unnerving. There’s nothing about me that I could ever hide from him because he would know. And the fact that I know he sees me for who I really am and still loves me, is the most freeing experience I have ever had. He understands me. I like that there isn’t anything standing between us. Except for one glaring, monumental thing. The one and only thing I can’t talk about.

  “Suitor? Really? Haven’t we discussed your use of the English language and how you really should adopt a slightly more modern version?”

  “You adore my proper English.”

  “‘Proper.’ That’s another word most twenty-seven-year-olds don’t use in this country.”

  “You know I don’t have to do anything that any other man my age would normally do. Which is why, I assume, I ended up courting a member of the Morgan clan.”

  “We’re not a clan. And yes, you’re somewhat contradictory to most of the guys I know.”

  “Most of the men in this part of the continent are not wizards either, so my ranking should move up twice if I’m calculating correctly.”

  I narrow my eyes at his assumption that his magical abilities outweigh those of non-magic users. “I’ll have you know that I don’t date wizards exclusively,” I say, acting appalled by the notion that I might be prejudiced.

  “But I do earn extra points for it,” he says with certainty.

  “I don’t think so. Your ability to see my true motivations and the inner workings of my female mind aren’t necessarily a benefit.” I lean away from him like maybe I should increase the space between us to protect my female right to be misguided and indecisive.

  His sensuous mouth spreads into a humorous grin. “You turn our talk around and around, avoiding at all cost the real reason I’ve brought you out here today. But, I’ve seen our future, Aspen, and you can’t escape it. We will be sharing this life. I want to marry you. The internship is twelve long months and the rules are quite strict. No one is allowed to visit unless they are family. A fiancé would be considered family. How will we survive an entire year without each other? We’re getting married so you can come to Venezuela and Chile while I work on expanding my mind and learning about our vast universe.”

  I tilt my face up to the glistening sun, stretching my neck and back. Closing my eyes, I think to myself that I won’t be going anywhere because I will never marry Rook. If only I had the courage to cut the cord now. Would that solve my problem? Can I quit this amazing man and survive? Is this how my mom felt when she lost my father? She didn’t live through the experience. It killed her. Aurora Morgan died from the consequences of a broken heart, and her only daughter would not suffer the same fate.

  But the words fail me. They were pouring out of my mouth a minute before and now I can’t say five measly words out loud. I’m breaking up with you.

  I feel Rook shift on the blanket next to me as my eyes begin to sting and a glob of emotion gets stuck in my throat. Being a female member of the Morgan family means you are born with baggage strapped to your back like an anchor and there is no way to be rid of it.

  “Darling,” he says in his most seductive tone of voice. “Let me show you something.”

  “I don’t think you should…” The past seven months have been mind-blowingly spectacular. Of course I couldn’t have ended this any sooner. No sane person would ever stop loving someone right in the middle of bliss. Yet my brain is telling me to tell him that we can’t do this anymore. Why is he pushing for marriage? Why can’t we have fun and then call it quits when he leaves for his internship?

  He scoots up behind me and I feel his long legs on either side of me. I smell the woodshop on him mixed with horses and just the slight crispness of pine forest. His body radiates heat and I lean back against his chest.

  Had I known that love could make me this weak, I would have run away from him on the day we met. Weakness is what killed my parents and here I am falling into the same trap.

  “You know it’s illegal to use magic on someone without their permission,” I say, relishing in the feeling of his muscled torso pressed against my back.

  “You’ll not falsely accuse me of doing anything wrong here. I am but offering you a gift.”

  “Really? I would swear you’re altering my mind and making it hard to live without you.”

  “Well then we’re even because you’ve already done that to me.”

  “I guess we balance each other.”

  “We do,” he says, and squeezes me in a little tighter.

  “So what sort of gift are you offering anyway?” I ask, now completely under his spell and not willing to give up the security of his arms for anything. I lean my head back against his shoulder and just breathe. Then I send out a silent plea to the gods. One more hour. Is that too much to ask?

  “It’s something I haven’t done with anyone since I was thirteen years old.”

  “Are we about to play a game of I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” I say, teasing, but part of me hopes that is exactly what we’re about to do.

  “Sort of,” he says with a hint of hesitation that I can’t quite interpret.

  I peek up at him from over my shoulder. His eyes are full of emotion and the grin I thought I would see on his face from my suggestion isn’t there.

  “Close your eyes again,” he says.

  I face forward once more. At first, uncertainty keeps my gaze trained on the forest at the edge of our little clearing, but I trust him completely and even though I could see something in his eyes that I’m not used to seeing there, I let my eyelids drift closed. Then I feel his palms gently cupping my face and covering my eyes so the world darkens.

  “Wait,” I say, and reach up to remove his hands. I turn to look at him again. After being together for a little over half a year, I understand that I still don’t know everything about his powers, just as he doesn’t know all of mine. Magic is a complicated business. Throw in the human condition and it can easily take a lifetime to know the complexities of someone’s magical skills and abilities. At twenty-five, I’m still learning new things about myself all the time.

  His hands rest on my shoulders as I watch him, looking once more for that wary signal I thought I saw in his eyes. It’s there.

  “We have nothing, if we don’t have trust,” he says.

  Rook is absolutely right and I’ve always felt I could trust him. My gut feeling about people is rarely ever wrong.

  I settle back against his chest and he places his palms over my eyes.

  The images come flooding in. It starts with birds. I’m not surprised to see the blue jays, magpies, sparrows and orioles. Rook isn’t named Rook for no reason. He has a connection with the aviary world and his parents understood it from the very beginning. Rook told me there was a nest of newborn crows outside his window the day he was born and the mother crow watched over him like he belonged to her. His parents had no choice but to name him after the bird that adopted him. The family of crows stayed with Rook as he grew up and he says, still live on the estate back in Devonshire, England. Birds seem to recognize him as one of their own. It’s not as strange as it may sound. In our world of magic users, there are much stranger things than being adopted by another species. Perhaps this is the reason I knew I could trust Rook as soon as I met him. My specialty is being able to work with animals. Did that make me more attractive to Rook? I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to know. Animals and I have been friends since I first opened my eyes and saw my aunt’s cat staring at me in the crib. T
hen Twinkle had to learn that he couldn’t sleep on my face, and I learned that cats aren’t always a witch’s best friend.

  The birds circle the clearing and images begin to fill the meadow. It’s a vision and I know this isn’t the inner workings of my mind. My boyfriend is showing me his thoughts. He’s connecting us by placing his hands over my eyes. It’s surreal and not exactly disturbing, but definitely a bit unsettling. People should not place thoughts inside your head. His magic surprises me once again.

  In the vision, we’re standing near the stream and a house appears. The mixture of Craftsman and classical architecture is so much like Rook that I instantly know he designed it and we’re looking at his future home in this very same field. The home is gorgeous with its covered front porch and rich stained wood. The stone foundation matches the stone of the two-story chimney. There’s a roof deck where I can see the top of Rook’s telescope stretching up to the sky and there are two crows sitting in a young cherry tree planted in the yard.

  In the front garden, lavender bushes and Russian sage compete for space with the coneflowers and daisies. The reflection of the flowers in the front windows gives the illusion of the garden extending inside the house itself. There are so many windows covering the home that every room must have an extraordinary view of the forest, the ocean, or both. They beg me to peer inside and see what this magnificent home looks like within. I’m about to do just that when Rook takes my hand and leads me around to the back. His imaginary house isn’t extravagant, or anywhere near being a mansion, but it’s beautiful and looks comfortable. There would be plenty of space for a family, but no one would be rattling around, or feel like they could get lost in the attic or basement. That’s how I always felt growing up in the Morgan house.

  The vision continues, and as real as it all seems, I know we’re still sitting on the picnic blanket in the meadow. I walk with him excited to see more, and the back of the property doesn’t disappoint. There’s a large sunroom and all the windows are thrown open to catch the fragrant air. I take in the flagstone patio and the stone paths leading to a fenced garden and glass greenhouse. It’s the yard dreams are made of. I can see more of my favorite herbs and perennials growing everywhere. The chamomile and poppy blooms are bursting with color and life, while hollyhocks lean against a trestle, and the sunflowers crowd a corner of the garden. Bunches of blue flax sway in a light breeze and the delphiniums alone make me want to take up residence and never leave.