Serena's Magic (11 page)

Susan laughed. “Want to tell me the problem? Maybe I could mix up a potion that
would
help!”

With the last of the papers retrieved, Serena sat back down behind the desk with a sigh. “I don’t think so, Susan. I wouldn’t want to ruin your standing as a
good
witch!”

“It’s that hulk of a psychologist, isn’t it?”

Serena glanced at Susan sharply. It had been five days since Justin had appeared at the museum—and neither she nor Susan had mentioned him since.

“Why do you say that?” Serena queried her friend warily.

Susan chuckled wickedly. “Because there are vibes about that man, honey. It doesn’t take a witch to tune in on him! What I can’t figure out is how you’re having a problem! If he winked at me—”

“Susan,” Serena murmured, “you’re forgetting about Marc.”

“Ah—hah!” Susan pounced. “So then you admit that the doctor has made advances!”

Serena blushed and tapped her pencil against the desk. Advances! If Susan only knew. …

If Susan knew, she would drive her crazy. She would see all kinds of things in the situation. She would chatter all day about the beauty of destiny and the wonders of the magic of the earth.

“Yes,” Serena muttered dryly, “I guess you could say he’s made a few advances.”

“Then, sweetie,” Susan murmured, her lovely brown eyes huge and wide, “why are you a wreck? The man is … one of a kind! Polite and cordial and civil and suave, and yet a walking mass of sexuality! You don’t get to see bodies like that in the magazines most of the time!”

“Susan,” Serena said primly, “what about Marc? He may not be Hercules, but he’s a hell of a nice guy, and we’ve been together for a year now. He wants marriage and children and the lot, and we both love Salem, and we respect one another! We almost never argue—”

“Sounds like you’re trying to write him a résumé for a good job,” Susan observed.

“Oh, Susan, I don’t know!” Serena laughed. “Marc’s driving me just as nuts as our illustrious Dr. O’Neill. They’re both driving me nuts! Marc is running around the house with tape recorders tapping the walls and trying to convince me my house is haunted! On Monday he came in with that old painting of Eleanora, and I think he’s trying to convince me I’m some kind of a reincarnation of her! This morning he arrived before I was awake and started prowling around the attic—tapping walls again. Then he goes tearing out of the house screaming something about his ‘proof.’”

Susan laughed so hard she clutched her middle. “Well, Serena, maybe the old inn is haunted! If spirits do come back, that would be the place!”

“Susan! I’ve lived in the Golden Hawk all my life! I never even heard the boards creak.”

Susan shrugged. “You’re funny, Serena. You’re all logic, but you don’t mind having a witch for a best friend!”

Serena shrugged in return. “To me, Sue, your witchcraft is like a religion. You’re a sweet lady trying to do nice things, and although I’m not a ‘witch,’ you have to admit I know more about the practices through the ages than most of your coven!”

Susan was staring at her. “You want to know something funny, Serena? That’s what your Dr. O’Neill said to me—almost word for word.”

Serena stiffened. In the past days she had avoided Justin like the plague, and she had done a fair job of staying out of his way. Only now and then had they run into one another, and she had immediately torn her eyes from his each time, trying to still the violent trembling that assailed her with his piercing, knowledgeable stare. He hadn’t come near the museum; when had he spoken to Susan?

“He showed up right after you left last night,” Susan said, answering the unspoken question. “He knew last night was one of our high holidays, and he asked if he might come and quietly observe the ritual.”

“Oh,” Serena murmured, biting her lip at the stab of jealousy that seemed to dig at her like a knife.

“Don’t ‘oh’ me, Serena!” Susan laughed. “You may be claiming loyalty to Marc, but I can read between the lines. And nothing happened. The man has no interest in me except a friendly one! And what a pity that is! I wouldn’t be wishy-washy in return, and that’s a fact!”

“Susan,” Serena protested, “that’s part of my point. I don’t trust a man like Justin O’Neill. He’s … he’s too physical. Part of his interest could just be … well, the challenge of the thing. I mean, he has to know his build is … dynamite, I guess. And you don’t get a build like that without working at it, and to work at it that strenuously, it must have a lot to do with a monumental ego—”

“Un-unh,” Susan corrected, perching on the side of the desk. “I can tell you exactly why he looks like Schwarzenegger from the neck down.”

“Oh?”

“There goes that ‘oh’ again!” Susan chuckled cheerfully. “See, if you took the time to get to know the man, you might take that snooty little nose out of the air.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really!”

Serena waited for Susan to go on, then realized her friend was purposely baiting her. She laughed. “Okay, Susan, why the body-build?”

“Polio.”

“Polio?” Serena repeated with an incredulous frown.

“Yep, he was half-crippled as a child, and the doctors told his parents that the future was up to him. He had to learn to work on his muscles—and he’s grateful now for his health. Says he never takes health or the body for granted.” Susan paused for a minute. “He is one great person, Serena. They don’t come in that mold often. A sharp-as-a-whip Goliath.”

Serena reflected silently for a second, chewing the stub of her pen. Sue was right; they didn’t come in that mold often.

So if they came and left, they left devastation. It had taken her what seemed like forever to mourn her husband; she had slowly and solidly built the respect that she and Marc shared.

Did she dare take a chance?

She rubbed her temple with her fingers. “We’re back to the same issue, Susan. What about Marc? What do I say? ‘Gee, Marc, would you mind waiting around for a while so I can see if I can make it with Dr. O’Neill, the brilliant jock who just kind of swept in?’”

“Serena! I’m surprised at you!” Susan chastised. “You have to make up your mind about Marc for what the two of you have—not for what you might or might not be able to exchange it for!”

Serena sighed. “You’re right, Sue. I … I just don’t know. I feel so terrible.”

“That’s not the way to look at it either!” Susan warned. “You can’t keep dating Marc and leading him on to believe you might love him one day just so that you don’t hurt him! The deceit would be far worse in the end, especially since it’s obvious you’re as drawn to O’Neill as he is to you.”

Serena sniffed a little bitterly. “You make it sound so logical and easy.”

“That’s because I’m giving the advice. Now if it were for myself, I’d just cook up a few good potions for both of them! And a few appropriate spells could be chanted. One to get rid of a man, and one to hook a husband.”

Serena decided to forget her bookkeeping for the day. She shuffled her papers together and stood with a wan smile for Susan. “Thanks, kid, but that’s another thing that makes me a bit nervous. Doctor Hulk doesn’t believe in marriage.”

“Ahh … but, we’ll hit him with magic!”

“He doesn’t believe in magic, either!” Serena laughed dryly. “Oh, I don’t know, Susan! I just don’t know.”

But I guess I have to figure something out soon, she added silently to herself. Her week was almost up.

Maybe I should take up yoga or meditation, she thought as she unsuccessfully attempted to fit her house key into the lock. She dropped the key and bent to retrieve it, then smiled awkwardly as Mr. Donnesy, sprightly and charming as his wife, opened the door for her.

“Thought it would be you at this time, Serena.” He smiled, his gray eyes bright behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “You certainly have been all thumbs lately, missy.”

Serena smiled weakly. “Thanks, Mr. Donnesy. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Not at all,” he said, chuckling, “and I’ll show you why!”

He slipped an arm through hers and led her into the parlor, where his wife and the Bakers were deeply involved in the board game Risk. Mr. Donnesy patted his wife’s shoulder affectionately, and she absently clutched his hand.

“I don’t know about Mildred,” Mr. Donnesy said with a sigh and a shake of his head. “Sweet woman till you hand her a pair of dice. It’s like opening Pandora’s box.” His voice lowered in disbelieving complaint. “I had all of North America. My armies were in Australia, and it almost looked as if I had Europe in the bag. Then
she
comes along like the wrath of God!”

“There, there, dear,” Mildred Donnesy soothed, glancing up from the board to give Serena a radiant smile. “Poor man was suffering from delusions of grandeur. I had to take him down a peg.”

“Ouch!” Pierce Baker suddenly murmured. “You think you’re having problems! Mildred just snuffed me out of Asia!”

Serena laughed and started to excuse herself, then decided she might as well prepare herself for the evening. “Who’s here tonight, Mr. Donnesy? Did Marc ever come back after he left this morning?” Unintentionally she lowered her eyes. “And what about Dr. O’Neill?”

“The gang’s all here,” Mildred Donnesy said, shaking the dice within their little container. “Ahhhh-ha! Double sixes! That wipes you out, Pierce.”

“Heaven forbid!” Pierce groaned. “The world is in the hands of two fanatical females!”

Pierce Baker was as plump as a Santa Claus, while Giles Donnesy was slender as a string bean. The two men together were an absurdly distinguished Laurel and Hardy. Shaking his head in the bewilderment that only recently plagued Giles, Pierce left the table.

“A delightful man, that New York professor!” he told Serena with a wink. “Giles and I spent the afternoon with him, studying transcripts of the witchcraft trials. The things he pointed out I’ve never even thought of before! Brilliant, really brilliant.”

Brilliant, Serena thought with dry bitterness. Brilliant, just brilliant. It would be so nice if someone, just one person, would decide that Justin O’Neill was an obnoxious bore.

Serena smiled. “Where is everyone else now?”

Pierce shrugged. “That young man of yours has been prowling around the hidden staircase all day. Justin is probably still swimming.”

“Down at the pond,” Giles supplied.

Damn him! Serena thought. Not only had he been making her a wreck all week, he was destroying her greatest pleasure of the summer. Instinct had warned her to stay away from the pond, and instinct had been proven right. She had learned from Martha that O’Neill swam daily.

Was he waiting for her to reappear? she wondered with a shiver suddenly raking down her spine. If he were, he had a long wait.

“Good luck ruling the world, ladies!” she said to Mildred and Gayle, adding to their husbands, “Thanks, guys,” before leaving them to their pursuits.

The men gave her cheerful waves and moved back to the table to cheer on their wives. As she had so often done in the days since its arrival, Serena paused in the hallway to stare at the picture above the mantel. Eleanora Hawk stared back with her same sad smile.

Serena hurried into the kitchen, frowning as she saw that Martha was not busy preparing dinner. “Martha?”

The screen door to the yard suddenly breezed open as Martha bustled in, smiling as she saw Serena. “Hello, dear, nice day?”

Serena shrugged, “The usual, Martha.” She hesitated for a second. “Are we eating late tonight? What would you like me to do?”

“Not a thing, dear. We’re all set. We’ll be eating shortly, just as soon as Justin gets back from his swim.”

“Oh.” The tone of Serena’s voice sounded her confusion.

“A barbecue, dear!” Martha laughed. “Salad’s in the fridge, and the corn has been grilling a half hour. I mentioned this morning what a lovely idea it would be, and of course the Donnesys and Bakers were all for it. Justin offered to act as chef, and,” she added a bit acidly, “Marc offered to help. Since he’s been consuming Golden Hawk food all week, I certainly thought it fitting for him to cook!”

“I think I’ll have a cold beer,” Serena murmured.

Oh, boy, a barbecue, she thought, feeling a headache coming on. She kept her smile up as she sailed across the room to duck into the refrigerator and rummage through its varied contents. The screen door opened again as she balanced on the balls of her feet. Grabbing a lite, she glanced up.

It was Justin, clad in cutoffs and sandals only, his hair wet and slicked back from his forehead, a towel slung around his neck.

He glanced down just as she glanced up.

Serena stared at him blankly for a second, her mind and heart racing. He looked much as he had that first day at the pond—broad, tanned chest sleek with moisture, suddenly towering over her from out of nowhere.

She stood quickly, disliking the disadvantage of her position.

“Good evening, Dr. O’Neill,” she murmured coolly.

He inclined his head with a lifted brow. “Good evening, Mrs. Loren.” He glanced from her to Martha. “I’ll start the steaks now, if you wish, Martha.”

“Wonderful,” Martha replied. “Serena, the meat is there, under the wax paper. Bring it outside for Justin, will you please? I’ll go see how the fate of the world is going and let them all know dinner is about ready.”

Justin disappeared out the screen door and Martha swung her way out to the main part of the house. Gritting her teeth, Serena followed Justin with the meat.

She dropped the steaks on the portable wrought iron counter by the grill. “Can I get you anything else, Dr. O’Neill?”

“No,” he replied, his gaze long and assessing. “But you can keep me company.”

“I … uh …”

“Yes?”

Serena shrugged and stood silently near him.

The steaks sizzled as they hit the grill. “I’ve missed you at the pond,” Justin said casually.

“I’ve missed the pond,” she replied, her reproach for his intrusion of her privacy evident. “I thought you jogged,” she added ungraciously. “Isn’t that sufficient for your daily exercise?”

He glanced at her with narrowed eyes. “Is it just me, Serena, or do you hold all runners with equal contempt.”

She hesitated a second, lowering her eyes. Then she raised them again. “Nothing personal, Dr. O’Neill. I’m not crazy about jogging. My husband had a heart attack and dropped dead while jogging.”