The Hidden Legacy

little prickle at the base of my neck. He was scanning the crowd and assessing any possible problems.
Edmund greeted Nathan and snapped out a blanket. He sat neatly between the two of us. “Hello gorgeous,” he said.
“Hey handsome,” I responded automatically. And he certainly was. With his red polo shirt and dark shorts, he was like an advertisement for upscale casual men’s wear.
Eli came back with Ivy and Margot, and my boy happily climbed into Edmunds lap. “Edmund!” Eli cheered, snuggled right in and proceeded to bombard Edmund with the adventures of the day.
Henry watched the two of them intently. I stiffened and narrowed my eyes at Mr. Walker. The unmistakable scent of camphor—mothballs, rolled over me. This was actually psychic olfactory information, and that fragrance meant suspicion to me. Henry was wondering about Edmund’s relationship with me—and my son.
He’s trying to figure out if Edmund was Eli’s father, my intuition told me. Almost as if he’d realized I knew what he was thinking, Henry shifted slightly, his attention now directly on me.
My response was a level stare. I didn’t blink, I made eye contact and held it.
The corner of his mouth kicked up as if he was amused. But he returned my glare with a cool assessment of his own.
Standoff.
With another practitioner, that sort of maneuver would have been an incredibly blatant sort of magickal power play. But Mr. Walker was no Witch. What he was, was a rude, narrow-minded son of a bitch who’d incorrectly assumed that Eli might be Edmund’s son. I’d experienced this reaction before over the years...but it didn’t mean that I had to like it.
Even before Edmund had come out in his college years, there had never been anything romantic between us. Edmund was like a second brother to me. We were family, it was that simple.
The fireworks began, and I tipped my face up to the sky, ignored the insufferable asshole to my right, and enjoyed the show. Before the display was finished, Henry Walker said something quietly to Edmund and left, disappearing into the crowd.
“Not the sociable type, is he?” I said to Edmund.
Edmund patted my hand. “Give him a chance Hannah.”
I leaned into Edmunds ear as not to be overheard. “Before the fireworks started, he was wondering if you were Eli’s father.”
Edmund’s eyebrows went way up. “What? Are you sure?”
“Trust me,” I said.
“You picked that up using your intuition?” Edmund asked.
I nodded. “Absolutely.” I tapped a finger along side my nose. “And he smells suspicious.”
“Suspicious? Of what exactly?” Edmund seemed intrigued.
“Of you and me, and our friendship.”
Edmund shook his head. “I’ll talk to him.”
***
Since I had the following day off, I decided to take advantage of it and get some work done in my shop. Ivy and Nathan had taken Eli along with them to Salem. I knew Eli would enjoy his time with his uncle, and I’d miss my brother like crazy when he left in a couple of days. But for now I had a lot of signs to make and, happily, most of the day to myself.
I tossed on my oldest white tank top and gray gym shorts. They were a tad too small from being washed and dried too many times—but they were comfortable. Since no one would see me, I ditched my makeup and pulled my hair back in a long ponytail. I lifted the garage door open, switched on a box fan to keep the July air circulating, and began to prep boards. I put my protective glasses on, tucked my ear buds in place, cranked up some rock, and got to work. I measured out the pine boards, set up my portable work table and took out my circular saw. I clamped the boards in place and began cutting the signs to the desired lengths.
I turned off the saw, picked up the short stack of boards from the garage floor and carried them over to my belt sander. I stacked them neatly, flipped the switch and began sanding the edges of the wooden signs smooth. The garage smelled of pine dust and summer. Sweat dripped down my back and I ignored it. I was singing along to my music and finishing a large board when a little puff of air hit me in the nape of the neck: The element’s way of warning me that I was no longer alone. A new scent caught my attention: Brine, sand, and the smell of the ocean.
I glanced over my shoulder and found Henry Walker standing hipshot in the open garage door with his thumbs tucked in his front pockets. He looked rumpled and scruffy in disreputable jeans and a faded red shirt. His hair tumbled into his eyes, and he wore mirrored sunglasses and attitude.
Intuitively I knew his gun was secured at the small of his back. Why in the world he thought he’d need to be carrying a gun in the ‘burbs of Danvers, I had no idea.
Annoyed, I tugged out an earbud. What are you doing here? I wanted to ask. Instead, I bit that off and said, “Yes?”
“Edmund told me where to find you.” He pitched his voice to be heard over the noise.
“I’m working,” I said over the belt sander. For spite, I turned my back on him.
He moved along side of me at the workbench. “I’d like to talk to you,” he said, stretching his arm across to flip the power switch on the belt sander.
I smacked his hand away before he could accidentally hurt himself. “Hands away from the equipment!” I snapped.
He held his hands up, and took a step back.
“Give me a minute,” I said over the noise, and proceeded to finish the edges of the board. I held the edge of the board to the sander and pressed down. After a five count I lifted it and ran a testing finger across the wood. I nodded, satisfied with the smooth edge. I shut down the sander, stacked the board on top of the others. I switched my music