Sympathetic Magic(23)

Oh, right. Of course Connor would have told Angela all about that. “Well, yes,” he admitted. “I hope you don’t mind me picking your brain.”

“There’s not much to pick, but come on in.” She led him from the entry into the family room, where the flat-screen TV was paused in the middle of a scene showing a very pregnant woman. A Baby Story? Probably. Angela picked up the remote and turned off the TV, then settled herself with a sigh on the couch. “I’d offer you some coffee or something, but right now I’m at the stage where it’s serve yourself.”

“No, I’m okay,” Lucas said hurriedly. The poor kid looked totally wrung out, and who could blame her? She was so big with the twins now that she appeared as if a stray breeze would topple her right over. The last thing he wanted was to make her get him something to drink.

She let out a relieved sigh, pushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. There were circles under her eyes, and she didn’t seem quite as blooming as the last time he’d seen her.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Her focus returned to him, and she smiled slightly. “I’m fine. Sleep’s a little tough these days…and I’m someone who’s used to sleeping on her back. No, it’s just that Dr. Ruiz thinks I’m going to need a C-section, and I really didn’t want to have to do that.”

Lucas didn’t have a lot of experience with those sorts of things, but he knew enough to ask, “Have you thought about consulting Eleanor?” The Wilcox healer had delivered a lot of babies, and he still wasn’t entirely sure why Connor and Angela had decided to use a regular ob-gyn instead of the clan’s healer.

“Oh, yeah, I called her first thing. She agrees with Dr. Ruiz, says she probably would’ve sent me to an obstetrician anyway. She did say she’d help me with the scars, that you’d never be able to tell I had surgery.” Another smile, this one rueful. “As if I really care about that. It’s not like I’m much of a bikini girl. But, bottom line is that these babies are big, and I’m not, and so I just have to deal with it.” Angela shifted on the couch, picked up one of the throw pillows, and shoved it behind her, as if attempting to get more support for her back than the couch’s regular cushions allowed. “Anyway, I’m fine. So what did you want to ask about Margot?”

In that moment he was ashamed of his intrusion, wishing he’d had the sense to stay at home and stew on the matter himself, rather than burdening Angela with it. She had enough on her plate already. But, since he was here now, he decided he might as well plunge ahead. “Well — I guess if there’s anything you can tell me that’ll help me figure out what’s going on in her head. I’m getting some mixed signals, and I’m not sure what I should do next.”

For a few seconds, Angela didn’t say anything. When she did speak, her tone was gentle. “Lucas, it’s your life, and you can tell me to butt out, but did you go out and choose the worst woman for you on purpose?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because she’s an elder. Because she’s spent her whole life thinking of you Wilcoxes as the enemy. You don’t just turn that off overnight.”

That’s for damn sure. But he thought again of how she had responded at first last night. He could tell she’d wanted him, if only for a few seconds before the logic centers in her brain switched on. “I get that. But….” He let the words trail off, then shrugged. “I guess I’m not willing to give up yet. So anything you can tell me would help.”

“There’s not much to tell.” Angela reached back and tugged at the pillow in the small of her back, apparently moving it into a better position. “That is, Margot’s a really private person. She lived with her mother until a about a year ago, when Sylvia moved down to Clarkdale. And Margot’s illusions are amazing — I mean, I can see why they chose her to be an elder.”

“About that,” Lucas broke in. “She seems way too young to be an elder. How did that even happen?”

Angela replied with a lift of her own shoulders. “I really don’t know. I mean, I was just in middle school when Rory McAllister died and they had to get a new elder. My Aunt Rachel told me they chose Margot, and I was just sort of, ‘okay.’ The thought of Margot’s age didn’t really occur to me, because when you’re twelve, everyone seems a lot older, you know?”

He supposed he did know, or at least vaguely remembered. “But you don’t recall anything else about it?”