I cringe. “Yeah.”
“And why would this upset me?” He’s not mad, but he’s completely serious and focused, like he’s searching out a weak spot in one of his business deals.
“You don’t like anything like that.”
“Anything like what?”
“Magic.” The word sticks in my mouth like peanut butter.
He’s quiet for a second. “And you think whatever is going on involves magic?”
“Yes.”
My dad moves slightly backward, like he’s pulling away from my words. “And the other day at breakfast?”
I hesitate. “I saw something.”
“And you lied about it?”
This hole is getting perilously deep. “Yes.”
“I see,” he says matter-of-factly. He rolls a pen on his desk for no apparent reason and frowns at it. “Do you know why I moved away from Salem, Sam?”
“Because of Mom?”
“Yes, but because of magic, too. It brings about bad things, things I’ve taken a lot of care not to have in my life. Things I don’t want in yours.”
Maybe I should just explain to him what’s going on and why I haven’t been telling the truth.“I get it, Dad. I really do. I’m more familiar than you know.”
His face shows pain. “Familiar? Do you mean Vivian?”
“Well, yes, but…” It’s not likely I’ll have another opening like this to ask for the potion. I brace the chair I’m sitting on. “I have these…Well, see, the thing is, I…I’ve actually done a few spells myself.”
“You’re telling meyou’vedone magic?” His tone has gone from upset to almost frantic. “No, Sam. No. That can’t happen. You can’t do magic. It’s too dangerous.”
“But I—”
“No.”
I feel like I’m shrinking, like my dad loves me less than he did an hour ago and in the absence of his love I’ve somehow become physically smaller.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or himself. I’ve never seen him this worked up.
“Take care of what?”
“Moving us back to New York City.”
“What?” I can’t find my words. I can’t find my logic. I can’t find my breath. “Isn’t that a little extreme?”
“Not from where I sit.”
“But the Meriwethers…”
“They can come visit.”
“My friends…”
“They can also visit.”