The Witch of Belladonna Bay Read Online Free Page B

said.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œThat woman they say Patrick killed, she was my best friend. And her brother, Grant … I don’t talk about him. And I won’t. But my mother? I did something pretty bad the day she died.” I sighed, looking away.
    â€œWhat do you remember about that day? Bronwyn, if you remember it well enough, you could just stay here and we can send for Byrd. Raise her here, together,” he suggested.
    â€œSo, you’re suggesting we rip her away from everything she knows, right when she needs something real to hold on to. Sounds great,” I responded, shaking my head.
    â€œYou didn’t answer me about what happened to your mother.”
    â€œI don’t want to answer that. Some things don’t need to be remembered.”
    â€œLet’s try together. Want to try?” he persisted.
    Usually Ben’s soft voice calmed the mean right out of me, but right then I was in no mood to be soothed.
    â€œWhy is this such a big deal? What do you remember from fourteen years ago?” I said.
    Snotty was always my best defense when I was home in Magnolia Creek. The fact that it made its appearance at that moment should’ve been a warning sign of sorts. There she was, the old me … BitsyWyn Whalen rearing her ugly, vain head. Susan Masters had given me that nickname because I was so tiny when I was born. My mother hated it, but it sure stuck in Magnolia Creek. It’s the name of a girl who makes trouble, and I lived up to it.
    Names are so important.
    â€œThe day your mother dies is a watershed moment. Something you can’t forget,” said Ben.
    â€œWell, I guess I’m not like all those other girls,” I responded. I’m damn good at sarcasm too, when I need to be.
    â€œBe serious,” he said. My sharp words, though few and far between, never managed to cut into him. It’s part of why I loved him so much.
    â€œFine. You win,” I whispered, the edge leaving my voice as quick as it had come.
    Ben leaned forward, fixed on me. His feet planted far apart, his elbows on his knees. Solid, solid Ben.
    â€œAll I know is we had a fight, and I was pretty hard on her. But I don’t remember what I said.”
    â€œThat doesn’t sound like you.”
    â€œYou didn’t know me then. I was Southern belle mixed with rattlesnake. My venom hurt people.”
    â€œVenom?”
    â€œI always managed to say exactly what cut the deepest, especially with Naomi. That’s her name. Did I ever tell you that? Naomi.”
    â€œYou didn’t. It’s a really beautiful name. Was she beautiful?”
    â€œMore than beautiful. And I loved her something fierce. More than anyone ought to have the right to.”
    â€œSo what happened? How did that change?”
    â€œI grew up and realized she was a junkie and I hated her for it. Then she died. The end.”
    â€œDon’t go,” he asked quietly.
    We sat, a new, uncomfortable silence growing between us.
    â€œBut if you do? I should come with you,” Ben added, breaking in before the silence began to weigh on us. When Patrick and I were little kids and we’d have a fight, it would last for days because neither one of us would give in first. Paddy would have called Ben an “easy mark.”
    But, easy mark or not, Ben couldn’t come. He didn’t know my people. He didn’t know BitsyWyn.
    â€œOh, no. Nope. You will not come,” I said.
    â€œWhy not, Bronwyn?” he asked with the frustration of many years boiling up and out inside the question. Ben was serious. He wanted to know.
    â€œBecause it’s not safe for you down there. Especially not coupled with me.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    Dammit. He was going to make me say it. “Jesus, Ben! You and me? Here we’re a kind of fascinating, open-minded progressive couple. Down there? Down there it’s still called miscegenation and you could get yourself