And sometimes, Mia realized as she turned and looked at Sam, fate wasn't content to hang back until the plan was formulated and refined.
"I consider shopping a work in progress. " She selected lettuce, contemplated the Roma tomatoes. "It's an odd time of day to see a businessman in the market. "
"I'm out of milk. "
"I'm quite sure you won't find it in produce. "
"I'm thinking about getting an apple. A pretty red apple. "
She continued to select items for a salad. "The plums look good today. "
"Sometimes only one thing will do. " He let his fingers tangle in her hair. "Did you enjoy your time away?"
"It was . . . productive. " Because he made her feel uneasy, she wheeled into dairy. "I found a nice little Wicca shop. They had a wonderful selection of bell jars. "
"You can never have too many. "
"My sentiments," she agreed, and picked up a quart of milk.
"Thanks. " He took it from her, tucked it under his arm. "Why don't you have dinner with me tonight?
You can tell me about your trip. "
He wasn't behaving the way she'd anticipated. There was no flare of temper over her abrupt departure, no demands to know where she'd been, what she'd been doing. As a result, she felt guilty and small. Damn clever of him.
"Actually, Lulu's coming up tonight so that we can deal with some store business. But I'm having a little dinner party tomorrow. I was going to call you. " She put a small wheel of Brie in her cart. "I've some things to discuss with everyone. Will seven o'clock work for you?"
"Sure. "
He leaned in, cupping her cheek with his free hand, laying his lips on hers. Softly, warmly, lingering over the kiss until it shifted from the casual to something more suited to the dark.
"I love you, Mia. " His fingers skimmed over her cheek before he stepped back. "See you tomorrow. "
She stood where she was, her hands vised on the handle of the cart, as he strolled away with a quart of milk under his arm.
For years, so many years of her life, she'd have given everything to have him look at her in the way he'd just done, to tell her he loved her, in just that way.
Now that he had, why should it be so hard?
Why should it make her want to weep?
Lulu got behind the wheel of her battered and beloved orange VW bug. Since the night she'd taken the unexpected swim, she'd felt safe, solid, secure.
She didn't know what charms Ripley and Nell had conjured up, but they were working like - well, charms. Whatever you wanted to call the thing that was hovering over the island, her girls were going to screw it to the wall.
Still, she felt better knowing Mia was back on-island, tucked into the cliff house, getting back to her routine. And though it had been a pill to swallow, she felt more at ease about Mia since she had Sam fretting over her.
The boy'd been an idiot, she decided as she drove through the village with the classic sounds of Pink Floyd blasting through the speakers. But he'd been young. She'd done plenty of stupid things when she was young.
Every one of them had led her here. She supposed, if she was going to be fair, everything Sam had done had led him right back to the Sisters, and Mia.
Not that she was finished giving him grief, but she would dispense it in smaller doses now. Only one thing mattered, and that was Mia's happiness. If Sam Logan was the answer to that, then he was going to damn well come up to the mark.
If she had to kick him up to it.
The idea made her grin wickedly as she started up the cliff road. And was oblivious to the mist that rose and rolled behind her.
When the music turned to a hiss of static, she glanced down at the radio, slapped irritably at the little tape player installed under it.
"Damn it, you better not eat The Wall , you cheap bastard. "
The response, a long, deep howl through the speaker, had her hands jerking on the wheel. The car shuddered around her as the fog poured, cold as death, through her open windows. Yelping, she hit the brakes first, an automatic response as her vision was obscured. Instead of stopping, the little car speeded up, its cheerful rubber band pinging now a machine gun's rat-a-tat . Under her hands the wheel vibrated, iced, and began to spin on its own. Though it felt like a slick and frozen snake, she gripped it, hard, and yanked. The scream of the tires echoed her own as she caught a glimpse of the edge of the cliff.
In front of her the windshield became a starburst. Ice crackling over ice. Then the stars went black. The spoon Mia was using to stir sauce for the pasta she'd made for Lulu clattered out of her numb hand. As it bounced to the floor, the vision shrieked through her head, all sound and fury. Her throat tightened as if a hand had squeezed it as she whirled away from the stove and ran. She flew out of the house, blind with panic, racing to the road on foot. From her hilltop view, she saw the filthy mist spewing behind the little orange car on the road below, and was running, running when she saw the car spin out of control and toward the cliff.
"No, no, no!" Fear blanked her mind, rolled sick in her stomach. "Help me. Help me. " She chanted it over and over as she struggled to find her power through the sheer wall of terror. All she had, everything she was, she gathered. And heaved the magic inside her toward the car as it crashed into the guardrail and flipped like a toy tossed by a child's angry hand.
"Hold, hold. " Oh, God, she couldn't think . "Blow air, come wind, a bridge to form. Hold her safe, keep her from harm. Please, please," she chanted. "A net, a bridge, a steady wall, keep her from that terrible fall. "
Panting, her vision blurred with tears, she ran the last yards to where the car teetered on the broken guardrail, over the drop to the rocks below. "It will not have what's dear to me. As I will, so mote it be. "
Her voice broke as she reached the rail. "Lulu!"
The car balanced precariously on its roof, seesawing on the crushed rail. The wind she'd conjured blew the hair back from her face as she climbed over the rail.
"Don't touch it!"
Small rocks and clumps of earth spilled off the unstable edge when she spun around at the shout. Sam leaped out of his car.
"I don't know how long it can hold. I feel it slipping, inside me. "
"You can hold it. " He pushed his way through the wind, climbed the rail until he, too, stood on the narrow edge. "Focus. You have to focus. I'll get her out. "
"No. She's mine. "