Witch Clan: Matriarchs by John Stormm (best beach reads of all time TXT) 📖

Different kinds of people are accepted easily here. I’m sure Johnny will have no problem at all fitting right in with everybody else here.”

“Johnny will try to fit in anywhere he goes,” she said. “But the closer anybody gets, the more they are going to see just how different he is. Are you ready to help everybody adjust?”

“Of course, Mom,” Lorry snapped. “You seem to forget that I’m his mother. I love him too.”

But, do you know him? She didn’t say it. She didn’t want to aggravate Lorry and spoil the reunion.

“As for any cultural differences he might have,” Lorry went on. “There’s a Sunday school bus for a local Baptist church that comes by every Sunday morning and he can get to know how to behave in Christian society through the very best teachers available. If you still want him to foster with Leona during the summers, we’ll have to see how things work out.”

This was not what she wanted to hear, and not particularly promising. She had plenty of Christian friends in the neighborhood at home, and so did Johnny. Maintaining an easy relationship always meant never relaxing one’s guard. Johnny knew there were words and terms he should never use around non-initiates like Christian folk, but he had never learned to deceive people by being anyone but Johnny. She had never pushed Lorry into accepting the craft. That’s not how her family operated. One was either witch born and had an affinity for such abilities and encouraged to develop them or wasn’t, and nothing more was said about it. Lorry knew the family’s proclivity for the craft in its numerous disciplines. To her, these were silly superstitions, old wives’ tales and granny remedies, notions a modern, American woman didn’t take seriously. It was a shame she had not insisted that Lorry take more interest while growing up. How was it that she couldn’t reconcile what had happened with Lee with the truth of this present world? The reality of her firstborn son was going to be at constant odds with sanity as her daughter perceived it. Emma chose not to argue and left room to help. She was walking on thin ice. Her daughter, however, was trying to walk on water.

The week went by all too quickly, and Emma had to return in time for her granddaughter to spend the summer. Johnny walked around in stunned fascination at all the varieties of flowering cacti and strange plants native to the Southwest. It was a very different world for him and he immersed himself in learning all he could. When Dave’s sister, Ginna, came to take them to the bus terminal, neither Johnny or herself could say goodbye without tears.

“You be sure to write,” she admonished him. “And you come and see your grandma when you’re able. Leona’s going to miss you too, this summer.”

“Her stuff she wanted to keep is in my closet,” he said, sobbing. “In case we used the guest room for someone else. I promised her I’d keep it for her.”

“She’ll be so happy you did,” she said. “You’re a good cousin. Now you have to be a good big brother. Think you can do that?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, smiling.

Everybody hugged and promised to write. The big Scenicruiser departed the terminal and sunny California faded in the distance behind Emma. Her worries for her family loomed before her. She had a few days travel to think about them in depth. She was a firm believer in the constructive use of "worry." When she could take the time to focus on a problem, or problems, and come up with workable solutions or a reasonable plan of attack, this was time put to good use. When all it wrought was hand wringing and anxiety, then it was time to put that pot on the back burner to simmer on its own and get to work on something productive. She couldn't control all the details of this situation, even at its best, so she chose not to worry over the small points and consider the overview. She couldn't predict exactly what would happen and how it would affect people, but she could be certain that Johnny would be Johnny and as likable and charming as he could be, his very nature was pagan and in a strict Baptist setting, he was likely to find some ardent disapproval. He also had no concept of "tact" or beating around the bush when he needed information. His questions or comments went straight to the heart of the matter that concerned him.

When sitting with her and his aunties as they discussed craft and midwifery, he knew a lot about women's issues for a six year old. He harbored no illusions about babies coming by storks or sprouting in cabbage patches, but he didn't yet have a clue as to exactly how they might have gotten to where they did come from. It had not occurred to him to ask that question yet. As virgin witches tend to wield the most powerful magicks without harm, too much detail about the actual sex act was never encouraged around the youth in the family. She wasn't worried about him being promiscuous, but if certain topics ever came up for discussion, he was very likely going to be true to form and address them in unabashed honesty. This could prove to be a disastrous event in the enlightened America of the 1950's.

In spite of herself, Emma shook her head and smiled. A storm had taken up residence in sunny California in the form of a tow headed, six year old boy. That sleepy little community was about to wake up to more than just their dishes rattling in the cupboards. As long as nobody really got hurt, this could even be quite amusing.

Leona's Lessons In Spellcraft

The sun shone through the leafy forest canopy in scintillating emerald hues. Emma strolled the well defined wooded path with her staff in hand and a familiar weight slapping her thigh under her apron. At times, the tall pointed crown of the hat she wore would brush the lower branches and she would have to duck a little to accommodate the extra height. Coming down to a grassy clearing near a cheerfully babbling brook, she watched a familiar looking, adolescent lioness practice stalking in the tall grass. The beast's hindquarters were much too high and the twitching tail was certain to give her position away. Propping her staff against a tree, she approached the big cat, who cocked her head and watched her curiously as Emma got down on all fours beside her.

“Keep that backside down, and the tail still,” she instructed. “It will keep you hidden from view and give you a better point to spring from. Now, you try it.”

“Would you care to join us for tea?” came a familiar voice near the brook.

Standing upright, she turned about. Two women, in tall pointed hats, sat at a table set with a teapot and china cups. They raised their cups to greet her. Her mother and Elvyra waved cheerfully and invited her to sit with them. As in a dream, she walked to them. It was a dream. Wasn’t it?

“You’re doing wonderfully with Leona, dear,” her mother commented while pouring her a cup and indicating a seat at the table.

Emma sat down and accepted her tea and tried not to stare, afraid they might vanish and leave her alone.

“Her mother seems to think we are grooming the next matriarch,” she said, sipping her fragrant drink.

“And so you are, dear,” Ella said cheerily. “She’ll be a fine choice.”

“She’s no adept,” she admitted. “But she learns well.”

“Neither are you, dear,” her mother acknowledged pleasantly. “But, I can’t help but be proud of the way you have filled out my apron. Who, but I would know that you weren’t adept?”

“Certainly not I,” Elvyra agreed, raising her cup in a toast.

“Johnny’s the adept,” she said, remembering he was gone.

“And we both know why he’ll never be the one to lead this family,” Ella pointed out. “He’s a male witch and we’ve never had one before.”

“It’s not his fault,” she replied bitterly.

“It’s not a fault at all, sweetheart,” Ella assured her. “His role is big enough for one little boy and does not include running this family. Our next adept matriarch won’t be born for generations to come. Until that time comes, Leona will be the perfect choice for that job, and she will do it well, as you will see.”

“Johnny’s not with me anymore,” she said sadly. “He’s with Lorry and her new husband in California.”

As if in response, a distant rolling thunder came out of the west. Though the skies were clear and blue above them, on the far western horizon the storm clouds loomed and brilliant flashes of lightning flickered among them.

“I’m afraid I’ve got good news and bad news for you, dear,” Ella said as she sipped her tea and glanced casually at the distant storm. “The bad news is, that David is not a strong man. He caves in under pressure and Johnny’s presence will create a lot of that for him. The good news is that it is unlikely that Johnny will be able to stay with them beyond the next year. You may well have him back,