A Different Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 5) by Debora Geary Page B

Moira was using one of her better matriarchal looks—the kind that was supposed to end conversations.
    Sophie was well used to the entire repertoire by now.  “Just remember Lauren’s message.  Witch Central in small, careful doses.”
    “My ears are working just fine.  If you’re concerned, I can have Ginia look at them in the morning.”
    Oy.  Sophie tried not to bury her head in her hands. 
    She’d about had her fill of feisty witches this long and cold December.  Lizzie had decided to make her own potion and only called for help when the billowing smoke turned purple.  An utterly cranky duo of patients had just left—Morgan was cutting teeth and Marcus was convinced she was dying.  And apparently shipping Moira off to California hadn’t made her someone else’s problem.  “I don’t know that we should be using crystals and things to mess with Beth.”
    “I thought you believed crystals useful for most everyone.”  Their elder healer seemed honestly surprised.
    “I do.”  Sophie tried to hold on to some shreds of tact.  “But they work best when the patient is the one seeking.”  And when you knew what the heck you were trying to fix.
    “Sometimes patients need a mite of help.”
    “And sometimes they want to walk on their own two feet, in their own time.”  The words were said as gently as Sophie could manage.  “Take her a lovely housewarming gift by all means.  Sometimes it’s the simple things that heal a soul best.” 
    “Don’t you be quoting my gran at me, young lady.”  Moira scowled at the screen. 
    Okay—there was cranky, and there was downright snarly—and Moira was very rarely the latter.  Sophie wished for a kitchen table between them rather than two computer screens and several thousand miles.  She reached out, trying to touch.  “What’s really going on?”
    “I don’t know.”  Moira stirred her tea pensively.  “I feel a bit out of step on this one.  Old and sitting by the wayside while people I love are hurting.”
    And a new witch sat lonely in the middle of an ocean of potential friends.  “Some journeys are trickier than others.  And sometimes, much as we want to, it’s tricky to walk alongside.” 
    “Aye.”  The spoon stirred more slowly now.  “Knowing where you’re headed is one thing.  Knowing how to get there is often the tricky part.”
    Sophie smiled, love making its way through the frustrations of a difficult week.  “So an old healer taught me.”
    Love came back at her through the screen.  “Someone needs to walk beside the poor girl.”
    “It sounds like Lauren managed a little bit of that today.”  Witch Central had gained a very fine negotiator when a certain mind witch had joined their ranks.
    “I know.”  Moira sighed and held up her hands.  “But the desire to help—it’s in my bones.”
    And there were no finer healing hands on the planet.  Sophie pushed her own short temper aside—perhaps elderly instincts weren’t wrong after all.  “So, go visit her then.” 
    “I believe I might.”  A pause for a sip of tea.  “Perhaps you might send some of my blueberry preserves—I’ve a jar or two left, I think.”
    There were at least fifty sitting in Aaron’s pantry.  And Sophie planned to scan them for hidden blessing spells first.  “I can do that.  There’s no one better to extend her a true welcome.”
    “And do nothing more, is that it?”  The twinkle was back in Moira’s eyes.  “I won’t push, I promise.  You’re a tricky one, you are.”
    Sophie grinned and blew a kiss at the screen.  “I learned from the best.”
    Delighted chuckles rolled out over greater California.  “Good night.  I need to go to bed—I’ve a wee boy to play with in the morning.”
    The computer screen went dark and Sophie got up to check on her sleeping son, with the echoing laughter of fairies and elves and old Irish witches warming her soul.

Chapter 8

    Jamie opened the door, wincing at the