Feathers (A Witch Central Morsel) by Debora Geary Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Debora Geary
nobody had bothered to find his ball yet.
Nell grinned, fierce and proud and vision more than a little blurry. And then picked up his bat out of the dust.
No way she was leaving this runner on base.
-o0o-
Moira sat in the shade of a lovely tree, enjoying the hint of a breeze moving the air over her cheeks. Such a hot and muggy place, especially when you’d spent the morning chasing a wee ball in the dirt.
Aervyn still sat out in the sun, eating a sandwich as big as his head and reaching out every so often to touch the bat at his side.
She’d been around for a lot of her special boy’s successes—but this one felt particularly sweet. He was a child to whom much came easily. And even though he worked hard, his talents often put him at the head of the class before he even wiggled his fingers.
Such things had warped the hearts of more than one witch.
But this child was wise enough to seek experiences that made him humble. And his parents were smart enough to let him play in entirely non-magical dirt, even when he wasn’t very good at it.
She would savor the image of his hellbent slide into Devin’s waiting knees for a long time. Their big water witch had made an impressive picture, crouched over second base, yelling at Daniel to hurry up and find the ball in the dirt already.
Daniel had been too busy cheering his son’s run to even try, but that hadn’t diminished Aervyn’s sense of accomplishment one little bit.
And Moira was pretty sure the pitcher who had once had a shot at the big leagues had given the next batter up at the plate something she could hit in her sleep. Which Nell had, so far off into the trees that the monkeys were still looking for the ball.
Officially, even with the dozen runs scored, Moira was quite certain they’d lost.
Witch Central had never kept score the usual way, however.
Daniel took a seat in the grass at her feet and offered up a glass of lemonade. “Maybe there’s hope for him yet.”
Moira smiled. Some fathers would be dreaming of future baseball glory. This one was just happy his son’s morning was full of sunshine. “You let him swing wildly at things for three years. That was very well done.”
“He asked.” Daniel shrugged. “There’s power in knowing how to get things the hard way.”
Aye. “Still. It takes a wise parent to sit back and let him struggle.”
He shrugged, face giving away nothing.
Oh, she knew him too well for that. She waited another beat, and then let her eyes twinkle. “How easy was that pitch you threw to Nell?”
He chugged his glass of lemonade, eyes amused. “A better question is, how many witches helped it land in a foreign country?”
Moira smiled. Probably a dozen. Done so that the outfielders could give up with dignity and join the general celebration dance on the field. So that a small boy could run slowly enough to appreciate every second of his victory lap to home plate. And so that Witch Central could do what it did best—blow great gusts of air under the wings of happiness.
So many feathers shining just a little brighter, for so many reasons.
This was insane.
Lauren glared down at the man lazily treading in the pooling water below, grinning up at her in the moonlight, and sent him a pithy mind message. I could just get in the way sane people do. The less-sane crew had invented fifteen dumb ways to get into this swimming hole over the last couple of days.
Devin just laughed. Not that she could hear him over the noise of the waterfall.
Thirty-something-year-old realtors didn’t slide down waterfalls. That had to be in the rulebook somewhere.
That rulebook should be burned. Along with bras and to-do lists and my mom’s cooking.
Yup. He was definitely laughing at her now.
She closed her eyes. Looking down was definitely not helping. When she swam in the pool during the day, working on her water-survival skills and watching the munchkin crowd
Nell grinned, fierce and proud and vision more than a little blurry. And then picked up his bat out of the dust.
No way she was leaving this runner on base.
-o0o-
Moira sat in the shade of a lovely tree, enjoying the hint of a breeze moving the air over her cheeks. Such a hot and muggy place, especially when you’d spent the morning chasing a wee ball in the dirt.
Aervyn still sat out in the sun, eating a sandwich as big as his head and reaching out every so often to touch the bat at his side.
She’d been around for a lot of her special boy’s successes—but this one felt particularly sweet. He was a child to whom much came easily. And even though he worked hard, his talents often put him at the head of the class before he even wiggled his fingers.
Such things had warped the hearts of more than one witch.
But this child was wise enough to seek experiences that made him humble. And his parents were smart enough to let him play in entirely non-magical dirt, even when he wasn’t very good at it.
She would savor the image of his hellbent slide into Devin’s waiting knees for a long time. Their big water witch had made an impressive picture, crouched over second base, yelling at Daniel to hurry up and find the ball in the dirt already.
Daniel had been too busy cheering his son’s run to even try, but that hadn’t diminished Aervyn’s sense of accomplishment one little bit.
And Moira was pretty sure the pitcher who had once had a shot at the big leagues had given the next batter up at the plate something she could hit in her sleep. Which Nell had, so far off into the trees that the monkeys were still looking for the ball.
Officially, even with the dozen runs scored, Moira was quite certain they’d lost.
Witch Central had never kept score the usual way, however.
Daniel took a seat in the grass at her feet and offered up a glass of lemonade. “Maybe there’s hope for him yet.”
Moira smiled. Some fathers would be dreaming of future baseball glory. This one was just happy his son’s morning was full of sunshine. “You let him swing wildly at things for three years. That was very well done.”
“He asked.” Daniel shrugged. “There’s power in knowing how to get things the hard way.”
Aye. “Still. It takes a wise parent to sit back and let him struggle.”
He shrugged, face giving away nothing.
Oh, she knew him too well for that. She waited another beat, and then let her eyes twinkle. “How easy was that pitch you threw to Nell?”
He chugged his glass of lemonade, eyes amused. “A better question is, how many witches helped it land in a foreign country?”
Moira smiled. Probably a dozen. Done so that the outfielders could give up with dignity and join the general celebration dance on the field. So that a small boy could run slowly enough to appreciate every second of his victory lap to home plate. And so that Witch Central could do what it did best—blow great gusts of air under the wings of happiness.
So many feathers shining just a little brighter, for so many reasons.
This was insane.
Lauren glared down at the man lazily treading in the pooling water below, grinning up at her in the moonlight, and sent him a pithy mind message. I could just get in the way sane people do. The less-sane crew had invented fifteen dumb ways to get into this swimming hole over the last couple of days.
Devin just laughed. Not that she could hear him over the noise of the waterfall.
Thirty-something-year-old realtors didn’t slide down waterfalls. That had to be in the rulebook somewhere.
That rulebook should be burned. Along with bras and to-do lists and my mom’s cooking.
Yup. He was definitely laughing at her now.
She closed her eyes. Looking down was definitely not helping. When she swam in the pool during the day, working on her water-survival skills and watching the munchkin crowd