Old Magic by Marianne Curley Page B

him in overnight just to be sure.”
    Even though we all have them, Mom is first with her question. “Do you know if there’s any . . . ?” but she can’t finish. Brain damage.
    Dr. Reed’s smile is reassuring. “There’s no permanent damage, Mrs. Thornton. He was apparently resuscitated within a safe margin of only minutes. He’s a very lucky boy. It could have been a lot worse.”
    We sigh collectively, and there’s plenty of tears, this time with intense relief.
    “Would you like to see him?” Dr. Reed asks with a kind of chuckle, like she’s cracked a personal joke. “He’s keeping our nurses on their toes. He’s wide awake, hungry, and full of energy, which is amazing considering the ordeal he’s just been through.”
    We all laugh at this. Not because it’s particularly funny, it just helps release a potent amount of stored tension. Casey is small but incredibly active. He can eat like a starved pig. It would be nothing for him to go all day without food, too busy racing and tearing around, only to find when he finally does stop, all the food in the house isn’t enough to satisfy him.
    Jillian turns to Mom with a warm embrace, then Dad and me. Kate stands back quietly, her eyes dewy and understanding. I’m glad for her silence, right now nothing makes sense in my head except the relief sweeping through me at Casey’s good news. She knows, and I know, that soon we will talk. About the curse. Yet, I’m not looking forward to it. Maybe, just maybe, she might be right.
    They leave and we go to see Casey. He’s sitting up on a clinical-looking hospital bed in a room on his own. No wonder he’s giving the nurses a hard time, he hates being alone. He looks in pretty good shape, considering. He’s eating vanilla ice cream and when he sees us, he chucks the spoon down and starts grinning his head off.
    Mom and Dad start crying again, and when they finally finish smothering him with hugs and kisses, I get my turn. I hug him and hold him tight. It’s the strangest experience. Not that hugging Casey is strange. Growing up I always helped Mom look after him. I’d push his pram, rock his cradle, pick him up when he fell, and sometimes I’d just sit and watch him sleep, like I couldn’t believe so much energy could look so peaceful. It always made Mom happy when I did this, like nothing could possibly happen as long as someone was watching him. And when he was older, I kept an eye out for him at school. But this feeling I’ve got churning inside right now is something more than just the usual protective older brother stuff. Reluctantly I pull back, and to cover my erratic emotions I smile and mess his hair.
    A distinct and unshakeable feeling hits me hard in my stomach—Casey’s near death is somehow my fault.
    Kate
    The whole town hears of Casey’s accident and by sunrise, Sunday morning, a community team has been put together. Hannah arrives for breakfast, filling Jillian and me in on the details. They’re not a bad lot when something’s wrong, or someone’s hurt. Mrs. Daniels had the Country Women’s Association members baking early so the Thorntons had three hot meals delivered by 8:00 a.m. Ken Derby, who owns the local hardware store, took over a new fishing rod for Casey, to replace the one he lost in the river.
    “There have been offers to clean their house and do gardening around the yard,” Hannah explains. “Someone even offered to fence off the river from the back of the house.”
    We’re sitting around the kitchen table while Jillian loads our plates with pancakes and Hannah piles on heaps of butter, maple syrup, powdered sugar, and maple syrup all over again. I smile at this, wondering where she’s going to put it all as she has no stomach, and think about these people who have shown real kindness. It’s one of the reasons I love living here, even though I doubt their kindness would extend as far as Jillian and me. Most people, while often browsing through the Crystal Forest, never