Part 7 (1/2)
He shook his head.
”I wish I believed you.”
He shook his head again, reaching out across the table, curling his fingers over hers. ”In all seriousness, I think that Salem is wonderful. The first museum was really well done-it made the history concise, and touched upon the incredible sadness of what happened. The memorial is exceptionally well done, too. It's a great town.”
”Then... ?”
She was hoping that he would somehow convince her that nothing was really wrong at all. But he hesitated. ”It isn't Salem, honestly.
Or New England. I think it's beautiful. Even with autumn pa.s.sing us by a bit-the colors are still fantastic. I love the old buildings and the shops.”
”And you think Wiccans are silly.”
He sighed. ”Megan, you know that I'm not a big believer in organized religion. I believe in G.o.d... and mostly, being decent to your fellow man. So... Wiccans don't do any evil. They believe in an earth G.o.ddess-or whatever, I don't have any of it down exactly.
There's just something... personal going on here that makes me a little uncomfortable. All right-I don't think your folks are happy that we're back together.”
”Of course they are! Mom told me that all young couples have problems, but if they believe in marriage, they work them out. My father told me once that I'd only ever be happy with another musician, because it's a language of its own, and someone who loves music the way I do can only be happy with someone else who speaks the language.”
”Your father really thinks that we both need nine to five jobs.”She laughed at the wry twist of his lips.
”Fathers the world over tend to worry about the future for their offspring. Honestly, Dad likes you.”
”Except that now, he'll really think that I beat you, or that I'm an abuser.”
He didn't sound angry. Or as though he thought it was her fault. It was as if he had really gotten past the dream. But he was bothered by something.
”What went on in your reading?”
”Ah, the reading.”
She'd hit pay dirt. She could tell by the pulse ticking in the vein at his throat.
”Well,” he said with a shrug. ”Seems that Sara thinks I'm really bad for you.”
”Sara doesn't know either of us.”
”Yes, but she's a seer, right?”
He had ordered a draft beer. It arrived as he spoke offhandedly, lifting it to her.
Megan stirred her iced tea, staring down at it. Morwenna's reading had been disturbing as well. She didn't intend to tell Finn about it.
”Finn, I'm really sorry. I guess they can't help but be concerned.”
”Sure. Your family.” He managed another rueful smile.
”So... just how many people here are you related to?”
She sat back, laughing at the sound of his voice. He was managing to joke. ”Well, there's Aunt Martha. I think I've told you about her.”
”The old lady?”
”You'll love her. She's totally straightlaced. Thinks Morwenna is an idiot-or a commercial opportunist. She couldn't come to the wedding because she was ill, remember I told you at the time? But I sent her a copy of the pictures so she'll feel as if she knows you already.”
”But she's not really your aunt?”
”She was my grandmother's half cousin, or something like that. There's a blood tie, but not a strong one.”
”But she means a lot to you, right?”
”Oh, yes, she's a sweetheart.”
”We'll stop by quickly this afternoon, right before heading for the hotel and the hall to set up.”
”We should do that by six.”
”I don't think we need to start so early,” Finn said. ”This is Salem, Halloween week. They're not opening the doors until nine.”
Megan studied her tea gla.s.s, a slow smile curling into her lips. He was really trying to make her happy. ”Fine. We'll set up by seven, then. How's that?”
”Seven is plenty of time. Thank G.o.d for electronic music, huh?”
”Um. Are you sure that's time enough to set up?”
”Sure. The hotel has their own guys on duty to help, should we need some manual labor. But I'm accustomed to carting stuff around. It's not a problem.”
He was trying so hard. Megan was grateful for his effort-and yet worried that being here was such an effort for him. Actually, it had all been going well enough-until last night. Then this morning, he had been determined. And he was still determined, just different since they had left Morwenna's shop.
Thank G.o.d he hadn't asked about her Tarot reading, she thought uncomfortably. Morwenna had been seriously shaken by something she had seen. Deeply concerned. And-incredibly hesitantly-she had suggested that Megan shouldn't be with Finn. At least, not here, not now, with Halloween at the end of the week.
The scrod arrived. Finn bit into his and praised it lavishly. ”You're right. The best scrod in the entire world.”
She grinned ruefully. ”You'd say that no matter what.”
”It's good. Really good.”
She thought she smiled, but she must have looked perplexed because he stared at her, fork in midair, and asked, ”What's wrong?”
”With me? Nothing. Nothing at all. I just wish... well, I wish that you honestly liked this place.”
He set his fork down, his eyes not wavering from hers. ”Megan, I swear to you, I do like this place. Salem is beautiful. People- tourists and locals-are as nice as can be. I think the whole witchcraft thing-at least the way you've explained it to me-is great.
A respect for nature. Spells that can only do good. And the pumpkins and decorations are charming. The respect for the tragedies of the past that is shown is tremendous.”
”But... ?” she prompted.
”But?”
”There's just something more. As if you think that some kind of evil lingers on here.”