Page 4 of Innocent Until Proven Witch

Her expression doesn't change. My mother has always had a talent for hearing what people don't say.

"Then figure it out here," she replies. "You've spent enough years trying to do it somewhere else."

I don't answer, mostly because I don't have one. She studies me quietly for a while before stepping aside. "Come inside before I decide to charge you rent."

The familiar scent of cedarwood and salt greets me as I enter. The interior looks brighter, with new shelves and photographs hanging near the staircase. One catches my attention. My father, standing beside a fishing boat, grinning at the camera as though life never gave him a reason not to.

The sight hits harder than expected, and I look away.

My mother notices. Of course she notices.

"He'd be happy you're here."

"I doubt he'd be happy about how long it took," I exhale slowly.

Mother walks over and adjusts the frame. "He spent his life waiting for stubborn people to come around." A small smile touches her lips. "You were his son. He had plenty of practice."

The knot in my chest loosens despite myself.

We spend the afternoon unloading supplies, discussing repairs, and catching up on details people miss when living apart. The conversation remains easy until my mother mentions the lighthouse.

"Did you see Reina yet?"

I pause while setting down a crate. "No." Something about her tone catches my attention. "Should I have?"

She considers her answer. "Depends who you ask."

That sounds interesting. "What does that mean?"

She leans against the workbench. "Most people around here blame her whenever something goes wrong."

I frown. "For what?"

"The weather."

The response is so ridiculous I wait for the joke. It never arrives.

"You're serious."

"Unfortunately."

"The weather?" I stare at her.

My mother folds her arms. " She is a storm witch afterall."

The explanation means little to me. Moonhaven has always been filled with magic that most people barely notice.

"Is she causing problems?"

Her expression sharpens. "No," the answer arrives without hesitation.

"Then why blame her?"

"Because blaming someone is easier than admitting you don't understand."

I think about that, and it sounds familiar. Every town has rumors, convenient villains. Still, the certainty in my mother's voice stands out.

"You seem confident."