A Lost Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 7) by Debora Geary Page B

dandelions.  He’d brought her exactly such a bouquet more than once.  “Do you think it’s the baby she saw?”
    “Some.”  Devin’s eyes were hurting again too.  “Apparently we Sullivans don’t wait until our kids are born to fall in love with them.”
    Retha was well acquainted with that pain as well.  She offered wordless love to her grown child. 
    “But she’d talk to me about that.”  Dev shifted the dandelions to his other hand and wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulders.  “Maybe she’ll talk to you about the rest.”
    Maybe.  “It can be so very difficult to know things we aren’t really meant to know.”
    “You believe that?  That we aren’t meant to know the future?”  He held her close, eyes gazing out at the water.  “I know it helped you keep us out of trouble more than once.”
    “And let me down several hundred other times.”  Retha smiled, grateful it had.  Many of the times that hadn’t gone as she expected were in her treasure chest of most precious memories. 
    “Well, for better or worse, Lauren knows something.”
    “And she’ll be working out how to live with it.”  Time to go find a witch.  She reached out to touch his dandelions.  “Keep being her rock.  Words are never the things that matter most.”
    -o0o-
    She felt them before she heard them, the man who loved her and the woman who had easily, gracefully added so many to her family.  Lauren shifted in her couch nest.  If she stayed there much longer, she was going to meld with the pillows.
    Retha walked through the sliding glass doors first, a smile on her face, dandelions in her hand, and amusement in her mind.  Devin followed, his hands cupped around some kind of treasure.  He looked up, distracted.  “Do you know anything about this?”
    Not likely—she hadn’t left the couch in hours.  “What is it?”
    He walked over to her side and held out his hands. 
    Lauren stared—and felt the earth rolling.  Nausea, and swirling, tumbling fog.  And then strong hands and her husband’s suddenly white face.
    Dammit.  It was a kitten, not a bomb.  With the force of sheer will and whatever caffeine was left in her system, Lauren pulled herself together and held out her hands for the bundle of gray fur.  It stretched out four tiny white feet during the transfer and then curled up and went back to warm, slothful sleep. 
    She grinned her husband’s direction, suddenly grounded back on planet Earth.  “That’s exactly what you do on Saturday mornings.”  Minus the claws.  “Where did you find her?”
    Her husband snorted, his finger sneaking out to stroke.  Happy rumbles rose up under his touch.  “Sleeping in my dandelions.”
    “She’s no bigger than a sneeze,” said Retha, leaning in for a look.  “I’m not sure Dev ever brought home one quite this tiny before.”
    Ah, yes.  Her husband, magnet for orphans and strays.  Lauren ignored the still-queasy feel of her stomach and focused on the purring in her hands.  “What do we feed her?”
    “Milk from a dropper.”  Dev flopped down beside her on the couch, phone in his hand.  “Ginia’s probably got one for her potions.”
    “It will be delivered by at least four children,” said Retha wryly.  “‘Kitten’ isn’t a word you can undo.”
    “Ah.”  Blue eyes looked up, suddenly concerned.  “You up for that?”
    Lauren’s ribs squeezed.  No—but not for the reasons he thought.
    Retha reached out, her hand cool on Lauren’s arm.  “Moira will have one.  And she’ll ask a lot fewer questions.”  She waited until her son started texting again, and then stroked the gray ball of fluff.  “I assume you’ve seen this adorable creature before.”
    The tears hit almost instantly—but this time, there was no fog.  Just a morass of confusion and guilt and ache that had finally found a door.
    Retha gathered her close, pillows, kittens, and all.  And waited, her mind entirely patient, for the storm to