Chapter 18

The shrill ring of her cell phone shattered the tranquil morning, jolting Tabitha from her cozy reverie on the sofa. She glanced at the screen, her heart stuttering as she registered the caller ID. Mom and Dad. Her finger hovered over the accept button, a sense of foreboding prickling along her spine. Steeling herself, she swiped to answer.

"Hello?"

"Tabitha." Her mother's voice was as crisp and cold as the first frost of autumn. "Your father and I have decided to visit. We'll be arriving in Whispering Pines this afternoon."

Tabitha's stomach plummeted, her grip tightening on the phone. "What? Today? But I thought?—"

"Plans change," her father cut in, his tone brooking no argument. "We'll be there by 1:00 p.m. Please ensure the house is presentable."

"But—"

The click of silence was like a door slamming in her face. Tabitha stared at the phone, a mixture of anxiety and resentment churning in her gut.

She took a deep breath, looking around her grandmother's house—her house now. The eclectic decor and cozy charm were a far cry from the sterile modernity of her parents' mansion. Antique books jostled for space with crystals and herbs and colorful quilts draped invitingly over plush armchairs. It was a place that invited you to kick off your shoes, curl up with a mug of tea, and lose yourself in a good story. So different from the echoing halls and harsh angles she'd grown up in where every surface gleamed and every cushion stood at attention, stiff and uninviting.

Sighing, Tabitha pushed herself off the sofa, her bare feet sinking into the plush rug. She padded into the guest room, her motions stiff and mechanical as she prepared for her parents' arrival. Hospital corners on the bedspread, plump pillows arranged just so, not a speck of dust on the antique dresser. The muscle memory of a childhood spent striving for perfection.

As she worked, memories played out in her mind like a film reel from a horror movie. Her mother's lips, perpetually pursed in disapproval, painted a severe crimson. Her cutting remarks delivered in a honeyed voice.

"Tabitha, darling, are you sure you want to wear that when the highest magic council in the states will be there? It does nothing for your figure."

"Your magic needs…work, don't you think? Best to not engage a council member in conversation with you still being so wet behind the ears."

And her father, always distant. The rare times he did look at her, it was with a critical gaze as if assessing a particularly disappointing investment.

"Your spellbinding needs much work, Tabitha. I expect better from a Greer."

"Daydreaming again? Focus, girl. How will you be the best witch if you can't stay out of your head? "

Tabitha smoothed a hand over the duvet, her fingers trembling slightly. She blinked back the hot prick of tears, swallowing past the lump in her throat. So many years spent wondering what she'd done wrong and why she could never quite measure up to their impossible standards.

She'd often felt more like a prop than a daughter, a box to tick on their life plan. The perfect family, the ideal daughter. Never mind that their perfection was only skin deep, a flimsy veneer hiding a rot of apathy and disdain.

Finishing up the room, Tabitha caught her reflection in the antique mirror above the dresser. She hardly recognized the woman staring back at her. Her blue eyes sparkled with a newfound confidence, her shoulders squared not with tension, but with strength. The months spent in Whispering Pines surrounded by acceptance and love had nurtured a part of her she'd thought long withered.

She wasn't that scared little girl anymore, so desperate for scraps of affection. She was a witch, a friend, a woman coming into her own power. And she would not cower before her parents' coldness. Not anymore.

The crunch of tires on gravel heralded their arrival. Tabitha took a deep breath, centering herself. She could do this.

"Tabitha," Celia greeted, air-kissing her cheek. "You look...comfortable."

"It's good to see you too, Mom," Tabitha replied, trying to keep the sarcasm from her voice. "How was your trip?"

Her father grunted something about traffic as he brushed past her into the house. Tabitha suppressed an eye roll. Some things never changed.

Lunch was a tense affair, filled with clipped comments about her "rustic" cooking and prying questions about her plans.

"So, this inheritance from your grandmother," Marcus began, swirling his wine. "Have you given any more thought to selling this place? The market is quite favorable."

Tabitha set down her fork, meeting his gaze squarely. "Actually, I'm thinking of staying. Grandmother left the house to me for a reason. I want to honor that."

Celia's brows shot up. "Surely you can't be serious, dear. What about your teaching position at the academy? Your life in the city?"

"I've realized that maybe that life wasn't for me," Tabitha said carefully. "Being here, learning more about Grandmother and our family history...it feels right.

"Speaking of," she continued, emboldened, "I've been meaning to ask—what do you know about the magical artifact Grandmother mentioned in her will? The Celestial Chalice?"

"Ah, yes. I always wanted that but she refused to give it to me, even in her will she was spiteful. As for what it is, the Celestial Chalice is an ancient silver chalice adorned with intricate constellations. When filled with water under the light of a full moon, it can amplify and purify magical energy, allowing the user to channel immense power and perform extraordinary feats of magic like changing dark magic to light."

"Really?"

"That's what they say. But there's never been any proof of it."

"Why did you two have such a falling out with her?"

Her father's face shuttered. "That's ancient history, Tabitha. Not worth dredging up."

But Tabitha wouldn't be dissuaded. "She was your mother, Dad. There must have been a reason for the estrangement, for her wanting to hide this artifact. I need to understand."

"What you need," Celia cut in sharply, "is to stop filling your head with all this small-town nonsense. Your magic has always been erratic - nailing down a stable career should be your priority, not chasing after myths in Nowhere, USA."

Tabitha felt a flare of anger. All her life, her magic had been a source of shame, something to be repressed and ignored because she was not as good as they wanted her to be. If she wasn't the best witch, she wasn't a witch worth speaking to. And now, just when she was starting to embrace it, to feel like maybe she belonged somewhere, they wanted to drag her back into their sterile, joyless world.

"My magic is a part of me," she said firmly. "A part I'm learning to accept and control, thanks to the people here. They've been more welcoming and supportive in months than you two have been in years."

Marcus's mouth thinned. "Tabitha Greer, you will not speak to us in that tone. We gave you everything?—"

"Except love," Tabitha snapped, tears pricking at her eyes. "Except real support or any shred of understanding. Do you have any idea how lonely it was growing up with you? Knowing that I could never be what you wanted? That my magic was not at the level you two wanted. That I was just some little witch and not the gifted daughter you'd hoped for?"

There was a long, taut silence. Celia dropped her gaze to her plate. Marcus cleared his throat.

"You're right," he said finally, his voice gruff. "Your grandmother and I...disagreed about how your magic should be handled. The Celestial Chalice she left you is dangerous. It was involved in a tragedy when my sisters were younger. They were twins. One born under light and the other under dark. Mother tried to use the Celestial Chalice to switch the dark twin to the light. Neither survived." He shook his head. "Your mother and I couldn't risk that with you."

Tabitha's heart squeezed. A twin. She'd been right. She'd had a sister, another piece of herself, this whole time. "Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered.

"We thought it was for the best," Celia said, not quite meeting her eyes. "That Chalice has only ever brought our family pain. We wanted to spare you that."

Tabitha shoved back from the table, tears blurring her vision. "Spare me? You left me completely alone. My whole life, I thought I was broken, defective. If I'd known about my sister, about our history, maybe I would have understood myself better. Maybe I would have felt less lost."

She paced the small dining room, agitated. "I've been reading Grandmother's journals. That chalice could be the key to helping people, to reversing corruption. And now...I wonder if it could help my sister too. To bring her into the light." She turned to face them. "I have to try. I won't abandon her like you did."

"Absolutely not," Marcus blustered, his face ruddy. "We forbid it. That thing killed my sisters."

"I'm not a child anymore," Tabitha retorted. "You don't get to forbid me from anything. This is my decision. Not yours."

Her mother opened her mouth to argue, but a firm knock at the door interrupted. Bram. Tabitha had never been so relieved to see him.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said smoothly, taking in the tension. "But I thought Tabitha might need some support tonight."

Celia eyed him warily. "And you are?"

"Bram Hartley, ma'am. Tabitha's boyfriend." He slid an arm around her waist, warm and steady.

Her parents exchanged startled looks. "I see," Marcus said stiffly. "Well, Mr. Hartley, as much as we appreciate your concern, this is a family matter."

"Bram is family," Tabitha said, lifting her chin. "More than you ever were."

Marcus sputtered, but Celia placed a restraining hand on his arm. "Perhaps we should continue this another time," she said, her voice brittle. "We can see we won't change your mind tonight, Tabitha. You always were stubborn."

Her parents left, the door clicking shut behind them with an air of finality. Tabitha slumped against Bram, suddenly exhausted.

"Thank you," she murmured, "for being here right when I started to feel like I was up against a brick wall."

Bram hugged her closer. "You're stronger than you know, Tabby cat. But I'll always have your back."

She nestled into his warmth, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. "What a night. I feel wrung out, but lighter too, somehow. Like I finally said things I'd been carrying around for years."

"Families are complicated," Bram said, resting his chin on her head. "But you stood up for yourself, for what you believe in. I'm proud of you."

Tabitha felt a rush of affection, of deep, soul-warming gratitude. "Thank you, but I couldn't have done it without you. You and your family showed me what real families are. What me and my parents have is just a DNA connection," she told him. "Without this place, these people who've supported me, I wouldn't know who I am. Whispering Pines is the first place that's truly felt like home."

She pulled back to look at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "And you, Bram...you're a big part of that. I know we started this whole thing as a charade, but the way you've been there for me, the way we've grown together..." She swallowed hard. "It's real. What I feel for you is real. I love you."

Bram's expression softened, his amber eyes glowing with tender emotion. He brushed a thumb across her cheek, catching a stray tear. "Pretending to love you has been the easiest thing in the world because the truth is...I do love you. Completely, my witchy woman."

Tabitha's heart swelled, a watery laugh escaping her. She surged up on her toes to capture his lips, pouring every ounce of love and longing into the kiss. Bram responded instantly, one hand sliding into her hair as the other splayed across her back, pressing her closer. They clung to each other, lost in the embrace, two hearts finally whole.

When they finally broke apart, Bram grinned. "Well then, now that we've gotten that sorted...how about some dinner? I can't confess my undying devotion on an empty stomach."

Tabitha laughed. "Dinner sounds great."

He picked her up in his arms and carried her to her bedroom, a sly grin on his face. "I think I want to start with dessert."

Oh, boy. She couldn't fault him there. She'd rather start with dessert too.