Abby the Witch by Odette C. Bell Read Free Book Online Page B

deep
breath. He didn't know why. He wasn't nervous.
    The door
opened a crack and his mother sighed. 'Pembrake.'
    'Mother.' He
couldn't pretend not to notice the wariness cloud over her eyes
like fog over the bay.
    'Please come
in.' She opened the door fully and stepped backwards courteously.
It was as if she were greeting an esteemed dignitary, not her own
son.
    She had grown
formal, more so on every visit he bothered to make. It was like
every rank he climbed in the Navy was a notch he lost in her
heart.
    He didn't
care; she didn't have to be proud.
    'I wasn't
expecting you,' for a second her smooth façade broke and she
blinked quickly, 'is everything alright?'
    Though it
showed she was still alive somewhere under those fancy white
clothes and pearls, he couldn't ignore the cold annoyance that
built in his gut. That she would show such obvious
concern after she'd offered her cold greeting was hardly
reassuring. 'Fine.' He tried to calm his mind, to gain full control
of his voice. He'd practiced this several times on the way over, it
should be easy. 'I have some news actually.'
    His mother's
eyes widened slightly and she put an aged but manicured hand to her
chest.
    She thinks I'm
getting married, doesn't she? She couldn't come out and say it of
course, but that's what she's thinking.
    Let her
stew.
    'Oh…
that's… really?' she stammered.
    Only he could
seem to do this to her, make her stammer her words like a common
servant, not the dignified leader of the community she was supposed
to be.
    ‘Well I guess
I'd best make us both a cup of tea.' She turned and retreated
quickly down the wide corridor and into the kitchen.
    He walked
behind slowly, casting his eyes over his once-familiar house.
House, not home, his picture of home had been replaced with a small
cabin with nothing but a hammock and desk for decorations.
    His mother's
house wasn't quite so austere; bedecked, as it was, in sandstone,
wrought iron and stained glass. It had ivy climbing up the walls
and a sun room where she grew orchids and read in the winter. It
was huge, far too large for an old lady living on her own, but she
still had the windows open to all the rooms in summer and beat out
the rugs regularly, as if she were preparing for planned guests
that never came.
    He walked past
the ornate dresser as he turned towards the kitchen, but he
purposely did not look down at the photos that sat there in their
intricate gilded frames.
    The kitchen
had changed slightly; his keen eyes noticed the small differences
automatically. His mother had moved the bread basket and changed
the order the pots were hanging from the rack on the ceiling and…
he frowned at the little bowl of milk that sat next to the patio
doors. 'Do you have a cat?' The oddity broke through his mental
blockade of polite conversation and came out sounding harsher than
he'd meant it to.
    'Oh,' she
looked up from filling the kettle, 'no, I had guests.' She put down
the kettle and bustled over to collect the bowl and two empty cups
from off the table.
    'Really? Who?'
He couldn't imagine his mother entertaining guests anymore. What
with Mr Hunter dead, there didn't seem to be any more reason for
her to pretend she liked the people in this town. Pembrake had
always suspected she'd just grow old alone in this house, pining
for the son that would never return.
    'Oh,' she
didn't make eye contact, just ran her hand nervously over her
pearls, 'just the window cleaner, dear.'
    'The window cleaner?' he asked incredulously. 'And she brought
her cat? What kind of a window cleaner-?'
    'She's very
nice, dear. You should meet her some, d-' his mother stopped and
swallowed.
    He tried not
to smile too obviously. She still thought he was getting married,
ha? Who did she think was on the top of his list, he wondered. Miss
Partridge? Annie Suble? The Captain's daughter? She disliked them
all. His mother was not the traditional match maker; she was the
dreaded match breaker. Oh he'd brought girls home in the