A Witch In Time Read Online Free PDF Page B

Liss.”
    “Not to worry, ducks.”
    “Did she say what was so urgent?”
    “Nary a whisper. But I’m picking up on family, if that helps you to clarify.”
    As my mom was all about family, just as much as she was about running each of their respective lives, it didn’t. It could be anything.
    After signing off, I turned to Marcus, who had lain back on the bed to await me. His arms were crossed behind his head, a posture that pulled the sleeves of his T-shirt tight around the bulge of his biceps. Yum.
    I handed his phone back to him. “My mother . . .” I hesitantly began to explain.
    “Call,” he interjected without a moment’s pause, warding off my guilt. “I’ll wait.”
    I wished I could just ignore my mother’s message, but it was a hopeless cause. There were a few things my mother was particularly good at, and extending missives was one of them. Mostly she was a master at keeping her family in check. Like a hen clucking after her chicks, she pecked us all into submission, one toe-scratched line at a time. The trick was to avoid confrontation with her entirely. Unfortunately I hadn’t quite figured out how to do that.
    I padded out to the living room to find my bag. It was sitting on the floor just inside the front door—right where I’d left it. I reached for the straps, missing one as I lifted, only to be surprised by Minnie rolling out of its depths in a fuzzy, sleepy ball. Laughing, I scooped her onto my lap and stroked her with one hand while I dug in my bag for my phone with the other. Aha , gotcha. The little display screen showed that I had three new voice mail messages. Three. That was my mother’s limit. After that, all bets were off. Hence the harassment of my boss.
    Sigh.
    I dialed my mom’s cell number—she had finally given in to the relentless advancement of technology earlier in the summer once she figured out how a cell phone would make her stalking tendencies so much simpler to execute—and waited. Two whole rings . . . she was slipping.
    “Margaret Mary-Catherine O’Neill! It is about time. Where have you been, and why have you been avoiding my calls?”
    “Mom. Hi.”
    “Don’t you ‘hi’ me, young lady. I have been at wit’s end trying to get a bead on you. Do you realize what I have gone through this afternoon?”
    I didn’t, actually. Wasn’t that why I was calling? “Uh, sorry?” She didn’t get that sometimes I didn’t want to be found, and she wouldn’t understand it even if I did try to explain.
    “You could try a little harder than that,” she complained. I could feel the disapproving little purse of her mouth growing tighter.
    “I’m really, really, really, super sorry,” I lied. Because I wasn’t. I deserved a little quiet time with Marcus, without the threat of my overly intrusive family hovering about.
    “Humph.” Not her most gracious of responses, but given the purpose for her call . . . “It’s Melanie,” she said, referring to my heavily pregnant sister. “It’s time.” Her voice was a touch breathless now that I stopped to listen a little more closely. “We’re all here at the hospital. Something is going on—they’ve shooed us out of the labor room. Only Greg is allowed in there with her. I think you should come in.”
    “Well, is it serious?” My mind was whirling. “Is it Mel? Or is it the baby?”
    “They haven’t said. Will you come?”
    It was the soft quiver in her voice that time that got to me the most. Despite her sometimes overbearing nature, she was our mother, and she cared for us, deeply. I knew that. And Melanie was her favorite. “I’ll be there,” I told her quietly.
    “Good. Oh, Margaret, be sure to stop for coffee for everyone on the way in, won’t you? We’ll need four. Five counting you.”
    And with that, her autocratic side returned at full strength like the force of nature it most closely resembled. My mom . . . she really did mean well. I was sure that would make a difference. Someday.
    I set both