After a while we sat up and ate our sandwiches. Everything tasted better because we were outside in the cool spring sun and we were together. I lay in my back with Morgan and her friends and watched the clouds. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this calm.

Not long after that, Bree and Robbie took their leave to make a foreign-film matinee in Taunton. Bree left the dessert with us, and soon we heard the distinctive sound of her BMW driving off. Leaving me alone with Morgan at last.

I turned on my side and gathered her to me, pushing her down on the blanket with my weight, feeling her slenderness beneath me, her leg automatically bending to curve around mine. Her arms came around me and I began kissing her all over, touching her everywhere. I felt intensely alive, curious, excited about our future. My body responded to hers so strongly that I knew if we waited much longer to make love, both of us would lose our minds. It wasn't until I felt her hand on mine that I realized I was at her waist and I had undone the button on her jeans.

Feeling foggy, I blinked and looked at her flushed face. I looked down at my hand and a her hand holding it. She smiled at me with slow amusement.

"Right here? Wouldn't we scare the chipmunks?"

I was too far gone to make a coherent response right away. Everything in me was telling me to charge ahead, and the fact that we had stopped and she was talking was taking a while to imprint on my lust-clouded brain.

"Mommy, what are those huge ugly animals doing?" Morgan said in a high, squeaky chipmunk voice. "Don't look, sweetie," she answered in a concerned mother chipmunk voice. "Just go back in the tree."

For a moment I just stared at her, then I started laughing hard. Morgan grinned at me while I guffawed, and it was only with effort that I got my wits about me. Leaning down, I kissed her on the nose. "You are incredibly odd," I said tenderly. "Really, incredibly odd. I'm sure that's the first time in the history of human sexuality that someone has imitated a chipmunk as part of foreplay."

We laughed together then, sitting up and holding on to each other, cackling like maniacs. She rebuttoned her jeans, and when we lay back down again, it was just to cuddle and talk. In the back of my mind I remembered my upcoming meeting with Celia Evans and Robin Goodacre. All they'd told me was that they were concerned about their coven leader possibly working dark magick. They weren't sure what to do but needed help in deciding if there was anything they could do. Later tonight we were going to meet again, and they'd promised to give me the whole story.

I had wanted to talk to Morgan about them, get her impressions on what she thought might be going on. But I didn't have their permission to talk to anyone, and while I would have felt all right about telling another Wiccan "professional," like my da, telling Morgan seemed like a breach Of confidence.

"What are you going to do this summer?" Morgan asked me, snuggling close, and I heard the wistfulness in her voice. She was thinking of Bree and Robbie's trip, no doubt.

"Well, I'm hoping to earn enough money to go home for a while," I told her honestly. "I want to see everyone, eat some decent fish and chips, fill up on England." She was quiet, playing thoughtfully with one of my shirt buttons, and I went on. "Is there any way you could go with me? What about if you promise to visit historical sites and write a report?"

She smiled, looking sad. "I'll ask my parents, but don't hold your breath."

I cuddled her closer again. We both knew, without saying it, that there was no way her parents would let her go to Europe with a guy. Not when she was only seventeen. I nuzzled her beneath one ear and felt her shiver. "We need time alone." Morgan nodded. "Then maybe we could get around to certain things we've been thinking about," I said meaningfully. Her hazel eyes, the color of stones seen through clear water, brightened with amusement, and she gave an instinctive wiggle against me. I kissed her gently, not wanting us to get all worked up again. Soon we were lying still again, our arms around each other, looking up at the sky.

As my eyes drifted lazily closed, I heard an odd cry above me. My eyes fluttered open and my gaze fastened on a red-tailed hawk, shooting groundward incredibly fast. It dropped below the level of the trees but almost instantly shot upward, each strong beat of it's powerful wings taking it farther into the sky. In its talons was a writhing black snake.

"Lunch," I said, admiring the bird's almost perfect predatory ability. I looked down to see Morgan frowning.

"That's weird," she said, squinting to watch the bird disappear high above us.

"Why? Hawks hunt all the time. This place is full of red-tailed hawks." I stroked her hair, loving the way the sunlight played across it.

"Yeah, I guess," Morgan said slowly. "It's nothing."

"I have to tell you," I said, gently easing her head up onto my shoulder, "I'm not thrilled about working at Practical Magick."

"No?"

I shook my head. "I know I can't be a Seeker anymore, but putting little spells on herbs isn't my life's calling, either. If only-it would be so great if the council weren't the only sow in town."

"What do you mean?" Morgan asked, rolling over on her side and tucking one arm under her head so she could look at me.

"Well, if there were an alternate council, say," I said. "One that held more closely to the Wiccan Rede."

Morgan was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if she understood what I was feeling. "Maybe you should start your own council," she said.

I laughed, then saw that she looked solemn and thoughtful. "You're not serious." The idea of me creating a whole new council, single- handedly, was laughable. "Are you?"

"How serious are you? she asked me, and I had no answer.

I was almost out the front door that evening when the phone rang. I debated nit answering it-I had only ten minutes to get to the coffee shop where I was meeting Celia and Robin-but then I picked up on the fact that it was Sky calling. I lunged for the phone.

"Hello-ello," I said, and she snorted. "How's jolly olde England?"

"Still repressed as ever," Sky said dryly. "Even English witches are more restrained than American ones."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I said, and she allowed herself an amused heh-heh.

"I guess it is a bit of a relief not to have everyone's emotions hanging out all over," she said. "On the other hand, Americans seem simpler to deal with. They say what they feel or think, and you never have to guess what's going on behind the silence."

I thought for a moment, and it came to me. "How's Uncle Beck?"

Sky sighed loudly into the phone, which told me I'd hit my mark. As light and beautiful and loving as my mum had been, her brother, Beck, Sky's father, was dark and hard hewn and almost forcefully introverted. He'd raised me, my younger brother, Linden, and my sister, Alwyn, from the time I was eight, and though I'd always felt physically safe and taken care of, I'd also always felt wary, distanced, and on thin ice emotionally. Sky and her four sisters hadn't fared much better, though they were his own daughters.

"Anyway, I think I'm ready to come back to Widow's Vale," she said.

"Good news," I said sincerely. "It's not the same without you."

"Right. So I think I'm getting a standby flight, probably on Tuesday. Think you can give me a lift home if I tell you when?"

"Absolutely "I said. "Why standby?"

"It'll be cheaper," she said, "and I can't see waiting another two weeks for a discounted flight."

So the family was definitely getting on her nerves. She'd stuck it out for a long while, though. "Just give me some advance notice and I'll be there," I promised.

"Cheers. Anything happening?"