Page 14 of Dream Weaver (Spellbound in Sedona #3)

COOPER

I stayed in the back lot with Abby for a good ten minutes after her father left. Out of sight, but clearly not out of her mind. Abby balled her hands into fists that quivered at her sides. Then she blinked a few times, tilted her head back, and closed her eyes.

My dad did that too. The tough-guy substitute for crying, I supposed.

He would like Abby, I decided. Witch or no witch.

For some reason, the thought made me smile. I hid it before she noticed, though.

“I’ll just check the forge,” I finally murmured, giving her space.

It was hot — plenty hot — by the time she joined me five minutes later. Her face was blotchy, her eyes trained on the floor.

I handed her a hammer, shoved the ax head a little deeper into the flames, and gripped my sledgehammer, ready to begin. She was like my father in that way too. Work was the best medicine. In the months after we’d lost Peter, my dad had built an entire barn.

Abby’s throat bobbed, and her eyes met mine.

I dipped my chin, acknowledging her silent thanks. Then I nudged her.

“Fifteen axes down, five to go,” I murmured.

It was amazing how far we’d come and how fast. Abby had even found the time to finish the etching on most of those. Several were decorated with flames, others with more abstract, swirling designs, and no two were alike. One even sported a snarling dragon head — a hat tip to her mother, maybe?

After a nod — and a long exhale — she took the hammer. Then she moved our latest ax head to the anvil and got back to work.

Bang! Her hammer punished the metal with twice the power of my twenty-pounder. And punished and punished…

The next time she stopped to reheat the metal, I caught Matt and Pablo exchanging concerned looks. I pretended not to notice. Clearly, this was not one of those times when talking beat pretending .

Abby didn’t let up for hours, not even for a lunch break. When the shop door opened with a new arrival, she tensed.

“Brace yourself,” I whispered as an older woman walked to Walt’s office, stooping to pet Louie.

Walt pointed me out, and I waved as she looked over.

My mother clapped her hands to her heart before hurrying over. “My baby! There you are!”

“Baby?” Matt chuckled.

I sighed. I could live to eighty or ninety and still be a baby to my mom. Regardless, I returned her huge hug and let her rock me from side to side, like she had when I was a kid.

“Hi, Mom.”

Ten years earlier, I might have found the open affection embarrassing. Now, I knew to cherish it — especially after witnessing Abby and her father. My mom loved the hell out of me, and that was a true gift.

So I hugged and hugged and told her I love you back.

“Oh, Cooper. You give me such joy, you know,” she whispered, as she always did.

“I’m glad, Mom.”

Abby, standing to one side, went from startled to amused.

I waggled my eyebrows, indicating I did warn you.

Abby grinned openly.

That was another plus of my mother’s visits. She had a way of lifting everyone’s mood. So, totally worth it, even if I got teased mercilessly afterward.

My mother let go, looked at me, then hugged me again. Finally, she eased away, though that took some effort. She’d always had a catch-and-release policy when it came to us kids, but ever since losing Peter…

“Nice to see you,” I said gently.

It was. It really was. But doubly so for a mother who’d lost one of her kids. Another reason I would endure any amount of hugging she wanted — or needed.

My mother proceeded to stage two of her greeting, patting me on the arm in the same way she patted my eldest sister’s baby on the bottom whenever she got to hold the little guy, which was a lot.

“So good to see you,” she whispered again, then moved her pat to my shoulder and looked around. “Well? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

That was stage three of Mom’s greeting, and it encompassed anyone in a hundred-foot radius. Mom loved meeting the people I spent time with.

She turned clockwise, so I introduced her to Bob first, then Walt (who she’d already met, but never mind), then Matt and Pablo, and finally…

“This is Abby.” My voice went a little thick there.

“Abby!” my mother exclaimed as if she was meeting someone I’d told her all about — which I absolutely, positively had not — and threw her arms around my boss.

Abby stood stiffly, arms trapped at her sides, gripping her hammer tightly.

“Um…Mom…” I warned.

“Oh, shush, child,” she chided softly.

“Not everyone likes hugging strangers,” I pointed out.

“Nonsense. Everyone needs a hug.”

I didn’t point out that if she wanted to be consistent, she ought to hug Walt, Bob, Matt, and Pablo too.

Finally, she released Abby and clapped her hands together. “A female blacksmith. I love it.”

Abby was still recovering from the hug, so I filled in for her. “She was a firefighter too.”

And, oops. My mother snatched her into an even tighter hug. Every firefighter was a member of the family as far as she was concerned.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! Which crew?”

“Dakota Creek crew,” Abby wheezed from under the hug. “In Colorado.”

“Oh! Under Greg Martin?”

Abby looked up from her trapped location by my mother’s shoulder. “You know him?”

“Of course I do. We met ages ago. Wait. You aren’t that lovely daughter of his, are you?”

I winced, because that would be Pippa, and being compared to her was probably like being compared to Peter. You had no chance of ever meeting that standard.

Then my mother saved the day by correcting herself. “Oh, wait. You must be the lovely stepdaughter he always gushes about.”

Abby’s eyes went from guarded to surprised to…happy and a little moist.

“I guess I am.”

“Wonderful, wonderful. What a pleasure,” my mother said, absolutely sincere.

I hid a grin. Good old Mom.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Abby said.

And, wow. A rare compliment, coming from Abby. The shine in her eyes said she meant it too.

My mother turned back to me. “I thought you were here to fight fires. But isn’t this lovely! You can help Uncle Rory even more next time you’re home.”

God, I hoped not. Working with Abby wasn’t half as bad as I’d expected. Actually, I’d come to enjoy it…a lot. But that had more to do with Abby than the forge.

“Oh. Dad sends his love,” my mother continued. “So do Helen and Christopher and Hattie and Parker and…”

She rattled through the whole list — all my siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles… Most of whom made up Wyoming’s Pine Ridge fire crew at one time or another.

Abby’s eyes went wider and wider.

“Greta sends her love too,” my mother added with a heavy undertone.

Abby’s face fell, and I rushed to set the record straight.

“Did she, or are you just saying that?” I asked.

My mother flashed that Mother knows best expression she did so well. “Well, Greta would send her love if you sent yours.”

I ran a hand through my sweaty hair. One of these days, my mother would stop trying to fix me up with the nice she-bear from next door. Greta made tasty cookies, and she liked to share. She wasn’t moody, and she didn’t cuss.

But she didn’t hammer steel or weld or operate a forge. I would bet she couldn’t dig a decent fire line either.

My eyes half closed, and I inhaled Abby’s dandelion and huckleberry scent.

For a few blissful seconds, I imagined myself in a different time and place. Then, with a little shake, I opened my eyes.

My mother’s eyes drifted from me to Abby and back again.

“Tell Greta and the rest of the neighbors I said hi,” I answered quickly. There. That ought to clarify things for Abby.

“Well, I’m a little late for lunch, but I stopped off for some snacks.” My mother pointed to the huge bakery box she’d left by Walt’s office. “Can you take a quick break?”

I’d been expecting that. The only thing that gave my mother more joy than seeing her children was seeing them eat…and eat and eat. Preferably home cooking, but takeout — a total taboo when we’d been kids — was okay too.

“That would be great, thanks.”

“Perfect. Would you like to join us?” My mother turned to Abby, whose eyes filled with a dozen emotions at once. Hope, joy, fear…

“I brought plenty,” my mother added quickly.

Ha. That went without saying when it came to my mother.

“Um…I’d—” Abby started.

Walt leaned out of the office with a phone in his hand, one hand over the receiver. “Hey, Abby. Come on over. It’s that woman — the one who wants the brazier.” His stern expression said, Don’t mess this up.

Abby made a face, then stuck on a smile for my mother. “Thanks, but I have the feeling this will take a while.”

“What should I do while you’re gone?” I asked.

“Keep away from my anvil?” she joked.

I stuck up my hands. “I wouldn’t dare.”

She flashed a wry grin.

“Seriously, though,” I went on. “What can I do that’s useful?”

She thought it over. “Maybe work on some handles? You know woodworking, right?”

My mother patted me on the shoulder. “He’s an excellent woodworker.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I sighed. Nothing better than a sweeping endorsement from your own mother.

Still, my eyes lit up, all golden retriever who’d just spotted a ball. Abby trusted me. She’d even given me my own job. An important one. I could finally prove myself to her…

She pointed. “You’ll find some hickory over there, and Pablo can give you any tools you need.”

“Great.” I couldn’t believe my luck.

“Abby!” Walt gestured impatiently.

She sighed and turned toward him. “Sorry. Gotta go. It was nice to meet you,” she told my mother.

“Nice to meet you too. Tell Greg hello. Oh, and grab something on your way out.”

“I will, thanks.” Abby smiled and walked toward Walt.

My eyes followed, and my soul stretched with every step she took, until, like a rubber band, it snapped back.

“Nice girl,” my mother whispered.

Fascinating was more like it. The more I learned, the more I wanted to find out.

“She is,” I murmured, trying to suppress the longing in my voice.