Page 52 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland

They say it’s darkest before the dawn, but that’s a load of horseshit, ain’t it? It’s dark when there’s no light. So quit whining and light a fucking match, okay?

—Evie Oxby, in conversation with Dax Shepard on the Armchair Expert podcast

Hours passed. The only place Beatrice could think of to be was on the deck of the Forget-Me-Knot .

At least there, she could look at the long stretch of shops on the main street—she could view tourists eating ice creams and locals getting their groceries, going on about their business as if the world wasn’t ending.

If she kept her gaze fixed firmly enough on the street, maybe she’d see Minna slipping through the clumps of people.

She kept her phone tightly in her hand.

Every thirty minutes or so, her father sent a text in response to her nagging. Nothing yet.

No, still nothing.

No, honey, still nothing. Yes, people are looking.

Then, Someone said they might have seen her near the river but

A terrifying pause was filled only with the bubbles that said her father was still typing.

but it was a just kid fishing who looked like her.

On the houseboat to the right, a man was scrubbing the film of salt off the windows.

Three kayakers paddled past. The woman in the back kayak screeched at two teenage boys that they were doing it wrong, though she was the only one wobbling enough to be in danger of falling out.

Because of what Beatrice had done, had said, Minna was running toward a father she thought loved her, but who would kill her and destroy her soul for his own gain.

Maybe he’d already gotten to her. But what would that look like, what did it actually mean?

Would he take physical form if he took Minna’s energy?

How would he do it? Who would protect Minna if she was up against him, alone?

And Beatrice couldn’t even assist in the search.

She squeezed her phone tightly, then brought up Grant’s face in Contacts. She stared at him for a moment. That crease in his cheek, almost-but-not-quite a dimple. At one time, she’d loved touching that with the tip of her finger. It felt like a really long time ago.

She pressed Call.

The hope in his “Hello? Beatrice?” made her even sadder than she’d been twenty seconds before. Why did he want this to be amicable? Why didn’t he want to scream and fight and burn what they’d had to the ground?

“Why did you marry me?”

To his credit, he rolled with it. “Because I loved you.” A breath. “I still do.”

Somehow, she managed not to snort. “Okay, but that’s not what I mean. I guess, why did you love me?”

“I love you because you’re kind and smart and—”

“Can you tell me the truth, please? Like, cut the obvious canned answers. Tell me something that would apply to our relationship, and no one else’s.” She paused. “And be as honest as you can.”

She heard him take a deep breath. Then he said, “I loved you because you knew everything, and because of that, nothing ever seemed difficult when you were around. I’d been so overwhelmed with everything when I met you—you remember how it was.”

She remembered. He’d had half custody of his kids when they’d met, and his place had looked like a frat house the day after a tailgate.

Laundry moldered in smelly, towering piles.

Wet towels hung from bedposts and lamps.

She’d found a pile of overdue bills next to the toilet once, and he’d sworn he had no idea how they got there. “I remember,” she said.

Would Dulcina remember that Grant’s toothbrush head needed to be replaced every ninety days? Would she know to purchase his favorite kind of boxers every year? Or would she be sensible and tell Grant to do his own shopping, the way Beatrice should have and never had?

“With you by my side, it meant I could shine at work and be a fuckup everywhere else.”

“You were never an actual fuckup. More like a… careless pinball.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that.”

It sounded sincere. “Thanks.”

“I’m… Even though me and Dulcy are happy… Shit, I miss you. I think I’m brokenhearted.”

For a second, she almost felt sorry for him.

Because she knew how he felt.

She just didn’t feel it about him. If grief was unexpressed love, like Naya had said, then it was official—this wild knot of unmanageable grief in the middle of her chest proved she did love Minna. And Cordelia.

And Reno.

But not Grant.

She realized he was waiting for her to respond through the silence. “Can you give me Evie Oxby’s number?”

“Oxby? Like, her personal cell?”

“I know it’s a big ask. But we talked at your party. She won’t mind.”

“I don’t know, Bea.”

She let more silence flow down the line. It wasn’t as though she thought he owed her. Life was life, and this was where they were.

But if he believed she might think better of him for giving her the number, she’d take it.

Finally, he groaned. “Got a pen?”

Evie Oxby, unsurprisingly, was confused as to how she’d gotten her private number. “You’re who, again?”

“The elevator. Seven miracles. Then I die.”

“Oh, yeah. My lawyer’s wife?”

“Soon to be ex-wife.”

The sigh was heavy. “Soon to be ex-lawyer, too.”

Trying to shake off the feeling of foolishness, Beatrice said, “I’m really sorry, but it turns out that I’m part witch or something, and I did something really wrong, and now someone’s in danger.”

She heard Evie say to someone in the room with her, “See? This is why I don’t answer numbers I don’t recognize.” Then back to her. “You’re not part witch.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re more powerful than that. The shit you’re sending down this line into my ear is actually painful.” Evie sounded bored.

It had been a mistake to call. Evie probably said the same thing to everyone. She was probably full of it, making up everything she said. She’d probably had no experience with anything really magical—

“You want to know where the girl is.”

Could be a lucky guess.

Evie sighed as if in pain. “Holy Hierophant. You call me, but you want me to prove myself? I’m literally in the middle of making a chocolate ganache.

It’s the first day off I’ve had in two months.

You’re sitting on some kind of a dock, except it’s also a house.

I don’t get it, but honestly, I don’t care.

You recently found a matriarchal figure you thought you’d lost, and a woman who looks like she could be your twin is also looking for the same girl. ”

“Jesus.”

“Not in my world, no. Can we get to the point, please?”

“Can you help me find her?”

“Mmmm. No.”

“No? Just like that?”

“She’s cloaked herself somehow. She’s a strong little thing, too, huh? That’s good, because she’s in danger. But you knew that already. You also know who’s after her. Look, I don’t get why you even called me. You didn’t believe me on the elevator, and I can’t help you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe.” Frantic, she said, “Can you just tell me how this works?”

“Pardon?”

“I’m new to this. All of it. I’ve been doing my best to learn, to study, and I really appreciate both your books, but I just need to know how it all works.

” If Evie could just point her in the right direction, maybe she could find Minna and fix what was broken.

“Can you just tell me? Since I’m kind of like you? ”

“It’s different for everyone. You know how people’s fingerprints are unique? Magic is like that.”

“How is that possible?”

“Who are you to think you should know?”

Beatrice gripped her phone tighter. “Excuse me?”

“Seriously. What makes you so special? The world’s been trying to figure this shit out for millennia, but you think you should be the one to figure it out?”

“You’ve figured it out.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m twenty-nine. Twenty-four years of seeing ghosts and I still can’t tell if there’s one in a hotel lobby with me or if it’s a bellhop in an old-fashioned costume. I have nothing figured out, except that I need to get a new phone number.”

“I’m sorry.”

Her sigh was pained. “What actually matters to you?”

Dad. Iris. Minna. Cordelia. Reno. “My people.”

“Why do you love them?”

“I… just do.”

“You’ll get no extra control from knowing why you love them. You might have less. What happens when you just accept how you feel?”

“I get terrified.”

“So the fuck what?”

She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

Evie went on, “Who cares if you’re scared? We’re all scared. Not everyone has the power you do, though. Use it. Act on it.”

“How do I know what to do? And then, how do I decide to act?”

“Sometimes we have to act before we think. Sometimes that means we get arrested for indecent exposure, but other times it means we’re following Spirit. There are times when the only thing to do is to act before thinking a single damn thought.”

“But—”

“Don’t even ask. You were born knowing how to do it—you just have to find your way back there.”

Beatrice wasn’t born knowing how to do anything except pine for a mother who’d abandoned her without glance in the rearview mirror. “You really can’t tell me where my niece is? Her life truly is at stake.”

“So many times. So many goddamn times they say that to me.” A pause, another long, indrawn breath.

She waited. The neighbor next door finished washing the last window and went inside without glancing at her. A seagull landed on the railing of her deck, eyeing her nervously.

Then Evie said, “No. Nope. I’m not getting anything. This one’s gonna have to be all you.”

Beatrice spoke quickly, before she lost Evie entirely. “I’m so sorry I bothered you. I’m very grateful for your time, I swear. Just one last question: Do you… do you think I know enough to do this?”

“Shit, I have no idea. All I know is that my ganache just broke. Tell Grant that if I don’t fire his ass, he owes me three free billable hours, because if I’d been watching this like I should have, it never would have separated.”