Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A lexandra knew what Spreag was doing. He was staying away on purpose. He said he'd be jealous when she came back from dinner. Maybe this was his way of doing just that.

She wandered around the patio, touching petals and leaves to help ground her in reality. The flowers were thriving despite the winter chill. And surprisingly, so was she.

"Spreag?" She called softly, then waited.

Nothing.

The doorbell rang around noon. Callum stood on her porch with a container of soup and fresh bread. The man liked to know when his next meal would be, and must have thought she was the same.

"Thought ye might need somethin' light," he said. "And I wanted to make sure ye were all right."

His genuine concern warmed her. "I'm fine. Just queasy."

"Aye, well. That's normal enough." He handed over the food. "Call if ye need me. Someone to hold yer hair when ye're sick, a shoulder to cry on if ye want to greet. Any part of me ye need, just say." He stared at her lips to make his point.

She laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

She watched him walk away, appreciating how well he moved despite his injury.

"Spreag?" She tried again, after closing the door. "Are you there?" Just in case he was having a hard time hearing her, she shouted his name one more time.

Nothing.

The silence in the house pressed on her, so she turned on the TV just for background noise. An Affair to Remember was playing and Cary Grant was wandering around the Empire State Building, trying not to give up on Debra Kerr. She immediately turned it off.

"If you meant that as a sign, it's not funny," she said to the ceiling and anyone listening.

She spent the afternoon curled on the window seat, remembering all the times she'd sat there with Spreag, all the books they'd read together. Now she wondered if she'd ever want to read without him.

"Please," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

But what was she sorry for? Living? Breathing? Accepting some affection?

He'd said he understood. Besides, it wasn't like she'd slept with Callum.

Night fell and still no sign of her husband. She tried to sleep but ended up watching the shadows move across her ceiling, counting the hours until dawn, trying not to think about the funny and gentle man next door with an open heart, a good soul, and a smooth-as-chocolate voice all gift-wrapped with her name on it. A man who could so easily win her heart if that heart was ever free.

But she didn’t want to be free to love Callum. She was already all-in, and she was never going back.

When morning came, she sat up in bed, heart racing. "Spreag?"

The silence yawned and the possibility of another lonely day stretched out in front of her.

She reached for the phone and found the emergency number Spreag had saved for her a long time ago. Just in case.

If she made the call, what would she tell them? That her ghost husband was giving her the silent treatment?

She rested her palm against her still-flat stomach. "What do you think, Huntly. Should we call the witches?"

She pressed the little phone icon and took a deep breath.

The phone rang twice before a sister answered, her voice cheerful but wobbly from age. "Alexandra, my dear. We've been expecting your call."

Alexandra blinked, her grip on the phone tightening. "You have?"

"Of course," Loretta said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "We didn’t know who would be calling, but we knew someone would need us soon. We've already packed our bags."

"You knew?"

Loretta chuckled softly. "We've got our own bit of the Sight, dear. It’s not always precise, but it’s rarely wrong. Now, don’t fret. We’ll be there tomorrow. Just hold on until then."

The line went dead before Alexandra could ask more questions. She stared at the phone in her hand, her thoughts uneasy. Spreag had known she'd need them, but had he known why? Was it the wedding all over again? Had he known he'd go missing? Or had he planned to all along?

If this was his way of pushing her into Callum's arms, she wasn't going to fall for it.

The next day, she paced the living room, her nerves frayed. Every creak of the floorboards and every gust of wind outside made her jump. When the doorbell finally rang, she rushed to open it.

Loretta and Lorraine stood on the stoop with matching blue suitcases in hand, their identical smiles promising mischief. They swept inside like excited children.

"You didn't give me a chance to explain. Spreag...Spreag's ghost is missing. Has been for two and a half days now. I went to dinner with the neighbor, and he kissed me on the porch, but I don't think Spreag saw us."

The sisters exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable. "We’ll find him," Lorraine said gently. "But first, let’s settle in and have a look around."

Before Alexandra could press them further, the doorbell rang again. She opened it to find Callum standing on her porch, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His face was carefully neutral, but his eyes flicked past her to the sisters.

"Lass, I saw yer visitors arrive and wanted to make sure everything was all right," he said, his voice casual.

"Everything’s fine." She stepped aside to let him in. "Callum, this is Loretta and Lorraine Muir. They’re here to, uh, help out."

The sisters turned to him, their smiles polite but distant. "Lovely to meet you."

"Aye, likewise," Callum said, nodding. "I’ll not intrude. Just wanted to check on our lass."

"Nonsense." Lorraine's eyes twinkled. "Why don’t you take her out for some fresh air while we tidy up the place? A bit of ice cream might do her good."

Alexandra frowned. "The house is already tidy."

Obviously sensing an argument coming, Callum excused himself to wait outside.

Loretta stepped close and kept her voice low. "We’d like to do a little more than tidying, dear. We’ll need to...create the right atmosphere to reach Spreag. It’s best if you’re not here for that."

Alexandra’s frown deepened. "I want to be here. He’s my husband."

"And we understand," Lorraine said gently. "But magic can be unpredictable. It’s better if you and the baby are not in the house while we sort things out."

Alexandra hesitated, her gaze darting between the sisters and the door. "How long will it take?"

"An hour, at most," Loretta promised. "We’ll call you as soon as we have him."

Callum's face cleared when she stepped outside. "A quick ride is just the ticket," he said. "Ye've been penned inside for days. Not that I've been watchin'." He winked and took her hand.

Alexandra looked over her shoulder to give the witches fair warning. "We'll be back within the hour."

"Understood," Loretta said, then closed the door with a snap.

Obviously, the sisters knew things she didn't, and she just had to trust that they knew what they were doing.

"Ice cream, here we come." He saw her face and scowled. "Ye’re worried. Would ye rather not leave them alone in yer hoose?"

"It's not a trust thing."

"Then a control thing?"

"Yeah. That's it. I'm just feeling out of control."

"Easy then. All ye need to control right now is where we find our ice cream."