Worlds Apart

By Patricia Otto

Putting her divorce in her rearview and her kids in the minivan, Maddie Pearce heads home to Salem, Mass., in search of a new life. That new life is not supposed to include finding a portal to the past hidden in the closet of her aunt's house—a past that has magic, sorcerers and a possible way to heal her special needs son. And she certainly isn't expecting the brooding, handsome lord whose bedroom lies on the other side of the portal and who seems determined to keep her in her own world.

The last thing Morgan of Pencastle wants to see is another witch oblivious to her powers stepping through the portal wall. Then the beautiful, sexy Maddie steps into his world. And keeps coming back.

Maddie needs Morgan's help, and together they try to build a bridge between the worlds. If only fate isn't so determined to keep them worlds apart...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patricia Otto
• Release date: Feb 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781943860036

Patricia Otto

A few decades ago, I found out that most people don't make up stories about the people they watch while sipping ice tea at a cafe. They do not take a cast of characters from a book or movie and give them a whole new story. Who knew? I thought everyone did that. Then there were the out-of-the-blue-characters. The ones conjured up in my head, telling me their tales, pushing me to write their stories. Sharing them only seemed fair.

Book preview

Chapter One

I can’t wait—a W with the number eight—the number two then F U. Yup, that’s how I found out. That cutsie text message from ‘friskykittie.’ Maddie Pearce took a sip of wine. And in spite of what my teenage daughter says about my being hopelessly out of touch, I know what it means.

Linda, her friend since forever, stared, wine glass halfway to her lips. Oh shit.

Pathetic, right? The whole thing is such a cliché. Cocking an eyebrow, Maddie lowered her chin to give Linda a sly look. Being the good wife, I answered it for him.

Linda froze. What did you say?

I texted back, of course. I asked when and where?

Oh boy.

Yup. Friskykittie said she would get a room at the Premier the next day at noon and await his arrival. Then I made certain Joe saw that text.

Oh dear, did you ambush them?

Maddie smirked. I waited in the lobby, followed her to find her room, waited around a corner for Joe to arrive then waited a few minutes after he went in. When I knocked on the door, away from the peephole of course, he opened it and…he was leading with…well his pants were stretched tight. Let’s just say he was ready to F someone.

Linda squeaked then fell back in her chair laughing.

So busted. Maddie closed her eyes. The familiar heaviness seeped into her bones. Setting up Joe was funny, yes. Catching them in the act was satisfying, sort of. But the whole incident still had the power to crush her heart under a boot heel. There are days when I wish I could close my eyes and when I open them a whole new world is in front of me. Maddie smiled at the bright sun, blue sky, and flowery meadow image in her mind. It’s peaceful there. Quiet. And green.

And chocolate has no calories. Linda shrugged a little. As long as we’re wishing.

Maddie pursed her lips. Trying to lighten the mood are we?

Lil’ bit. Linda looked to the ceiling then squished her eyes. I wish when I open my eyes I’m six inches taller and twenty pounds lighter. She opened her eyes to point at Maddie. No, thirty, thirty pounds. That would give me a cushion.

I’d like to be hot, no sagging boobs, no bags under my eyes, zero cellulite. The way I used to be…back in the day…before pregnancy…and childbirth…and life. Why does life have to carve such awful scars into a woman’s body?

Whoa, too philosophical for me. I’m just trying to figure out what my boobs are looking for down by my feet.

Maddie giggled. I believe mine are admiring my shoes. A storm cloud thought passed over her mood. Joe’s new wife has boobs that actually point in the direction the rest of her is going.

Linda giggled behind her hand. Well good, Joe and new wifey can point at each other.

They looked for a moment like kids caught ditching school before falling back into laughing fits. When they couldn’t laugh anymore, Maddie slid back into the couch and caught her breath. She stretched her legs out to rest them on one of the many boxes scattered around the living room. Boxes filled with books. Boxes stuffed with clothes. Ones that held dishes and curtains. Life encased in cardboard.

The last two hours had been a major wine-but-no-whine session. Having finished one bottle of Chardonnay and well into the second, it was safe to say they were feeling spirited. Not drunk, still able to walk a straight line and say their A-B-Cs but muzzy. Normally, it would be a pleasant muzziness, and perhaps someday in future bull sessions it would be again. Right now it just added to Maddie’s upside-down feeling.

Tears surprised her. Joe and the kids. My family, they were my whole life. I worked so hard, tried so hard to make everything right. I wanted everyone to be happy and make sure they had everything they needed. She paused. Turns out that was a bad idea.

Ah, suffering from Superwoman syndrome.

It wasn’t so much that I failed to be everything to everybody. That wasn’t even the worst part. Maddie stopped to swallow a sob.

What was?

I’m not sure when it happened or how long it took, but while I was trying to help everyone else I lost me. The last few years I swear I could feel myself disappearing. But I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t know—I don’t know—what to do about it. She hoped a sip of wine would bring the answer.

They were quiet for a few moments before Linda said, The first thing you can do is give yourself a break. Seriously, Mad, you need to be kind to you.

I’m hip deep in starting a new life for myself and my kids. I don’t have time for me.

Linda wagged her finger. Now that’s setting yourself up for failure.

The definition of insanity. You’re right.

Don’t worry, you’ll get you back. You’re home and have people around who love you. Besides, you have plenty of time.

Maddie blinked back a new surge of tears. Thanks.

Linda patted Maddie’s hand. You can do it.

Maddie sighed a laugh. Right now that sounds like so much work.

So do it a little bit at a time and don’t start tonight. Tomorrow would be better. Tonight we drink. Linda held up her glass then took a sip. You know what I find amazing? That men can really be dim-witted enough to think that they age like fine wine. That because we choose to turn a blind eye, they actually believe that they don’t have beer bellies and bald spots. Heck, we bear their kids. What do their bodies go through? Beer drinking contests?

Maddie shook her head. Almost as unbelievable is the fact that some women will go after another woman’s husband and not give it a thought.

Yeah, where’s the sisterhood? Linda was quiet for a moment. Do you think Joe’s having a midlife crisis?

I don’t know what he’s having. Maddie smirked. Except friskykitty, of course.

Silence filled the room. Maddie bit her bottom lip. Linda tittered first. Maddie giggled then reality slapped her cheek again.

The really shameful part of all this is we have three children together, one with I-live-to-rebel practically stamped on her forehead and one with special needs. And Joe has the nerve to justify having an affair by saying he has needs. What, like I don’t? What he needs is to get over himself. There’s work to be done, for heaven’s sake.

So you haven’t heard from him?

Maddie shook her head. He’s pissed because I moved back to Salem. But he didn’t give me much choice. Little Miss Frisky-tight-pants wanted the house so I needed to find a place to live. Then he gets pissed that I take advantage of living in my Aunt Lulu’s house rather than finding an apartment near them. Yeah, that’s what I want to do, see my ex and his strumpet living it up in my house. She tapped her chest. The place with the drapes I picked out, the floors I cleaned. The kitchen I designed. Heck, I wallpapered the dining room. Yeah, that’s right, me—took me two weeks.

You go, girl.

Damn straight.

They were silent then again fell into laughing fits.

Linda finished her wine. I have to get home. She stood. Bottom line in all this, I win. Joe may have the house and his little kittie, but I have my friend back home.

Maddie stood facing Linda.

They had become friends the day Linda moved in next door to Maddie the summer they both turned six. Maddie remembered peeking out the window to watch the movers emptying the truck and Linda’s shy stroll back and forth in front of the house until Maddie came out on the porch. She remembered yelling across the lawn, Hey, little girl, do you want some lemonade? and Linda’s shy nod before running up the walkway. From that moment, they were inseparable. By the first day of school, they would tell everyone they were sisters.

Maddie was sure the only reason she made it through high school was because of the answers Linda had Maddie write on her forearm and her insistence that they actually study in study-hall. After graduation, both of them moved out of Salem, Linda to go to college and Maddie because she found out she was pregnant and married Joe. Over the years, their communications were shaped by the times and their budgets. Letters or late-night-cheaper-rates phone calls in the early years, e-mails and chat rooms lately.

Today, when Maddie pulled her minivan into the driveway of Aunt Lulu’s house to the sight of Linda waving bottles of wine and cheering, Maddie had to admit, face to face was much better than cyberspace. Even if her less-than-triumphant return was totally embarrassing. She forced a smile. Yes, I’m back, failure flag waving high.

Linda rubbed Maddie’s arms. Failure my butt. This is on him, not you. Though you’ll probably need some time to see that. You’re beautiful and bright and stronger than you realize. Any guy would be lucky to get you.

Maddie’s hands shot up. Whoa, I have no desire to ‘get got’. I have three kids to get settled and a house to organize. And my website is desperate for updates. Maddie gave Linda a hug. But thanks. I appreciate the props.

They sauntered into the foyer. I know you’re not ready for another relationship and it may be a while before you are, but you’re too young to give up on love. Just remember not all men are boneheads and you never know when or where Mr. Right will be waiting. Maybe even in the next room.

Maddie peered into the kitchen. He can come in if he’s willing to empty some boxes.

Linda hugged Maddie. Just keep an open mind. I’ll call you tomorrow.

Okay. Maddie wrapped her arms around Linda and squeezed. Thanks for the welcome wagon.

Get some sleep, tomorrow’s another day. With another quick hug, Linda left.

As Maddie watched Linda pick her way down the cobblestone sidewalk, a long-ago image drifted into her head. Linda in a long, coarse, brown dress and white pinafore, her hair, which she constantly grumbled was too frizzy, shoved under one of those pilgrim caps. They were fifteen and had gotten jobs in the witch trial reenactments Salem, Massachusetts had during the tourist season. They were playing two of the teenagers accused of witchcraft. Maddie’s mother had always refused to let her take a job as a witch, saying the whole thing was half-cocked nonsense. But Linda and Maddie had forged some papers and gotten parts in the play. Everything was great until her mother saw their picture in the newspaper. If Maddie had only turned her head at the last minute the way she usually did when someone took her picture, she could have kept that job.

Maddie closed the heavy oak door, running her fingers over the worn filigree design on the brass doorknob. She leaned her back against the door and crossed her arms.

Aunt Lulu’s house was now hers, at least for the time being. Her mother had kept up the place since the day Lulu went into Restful Acres. Correction—mother had Aunt Lulu committed to Restful Acres.

Maddie had a cashmere-sweater love for this snuggly old colonial. From the slate roof, clapboard siding and huge wraparound porch to the five bedrooms and three bathrooms all with claw-foot tubs. Add in three fireplaces, the huge kitchen and a roughhewn root cellar, what was not to love? Aunt Lulu’s had always felt like home.

Maddie breathed in the scent of mellowed wood touched with the slight mustiness of age. Memories came flooding back. Of nights spent reading under the quilt in the four-poster bed and of rainy days making castles out of sheets draped over the dining room chairs.

It was the nooks in the place, the many cubbies that Maddie loved most of all. The window seats in the parlor and dining room, the ones on the landings under the stained glass windows on both the second and third floors. Then there were the built-ins as Aunt Lulu called them. The bookshelves on either side of the parlor fireplace, the glass front hutch built into one wall of the dining room and the closets tucked under the stairs with the doors that were shaped to follow the angle of the staircase. Maddie did not know what she would have done if she didn’t have this sanctuary to bring her children to. To bring herself to.

Maddie went back into the parlor and yanked open one of the boxes marked Books. She could have easily labeled the box friends. Books, little vacations spent with new friends or peeks into other people’s dreams, had always been in her life. She put a few boxes of her best friends on the bookshelves, tossing the empty boxes in one corner of the foyer. Spotting her wine, Maddie finished it in a long sip.

Mom?

Maddie’s youngest was standing in the arched doorway. Amy, I thought you were asleep. She put her glass on the table then held out her arms, inviting her daughter into a hug.

Amy walked into Maddie’s arms and she pulled her daughter onto her lap. Something woke me up.

What was it?

Something outside my window. It kept saying ‘wuu, wuu.’

Maddie thought a moment. That was an owl.

Is that a country animal?

Yes. It’s a bird.

Like a pigeon?

Well, pigeons are city birds. Owls live in the country. They’re bigger and they look for food at night.

Amy thought a moment. How do they see it?

They have really good eyes.

Amy sat in Maddie’s arms for a while. Mom, are we going to live here now?

Yes.

And Daddy is staying in our old house?

Yes.

Does he miss us?

Maddie inhaled. I’m sure, she said, though she couldn’t be completely certain that was the case. Of course he does, Joe is a cad, but even cads love their kids, don’t they?

When will we see him?

Well, Daddy is getting settled the same way we are. And I’m sure, once he has things straight, he’ll call.

When we visit, can I stay in my old room?

I don’t see why not.

Maddie could see Amy filing the information into the appropriate brain folder. What if I don’t find any friends here?

Maddie took Amy’s chin, turning her face upward to catch her gaze. No friends, you? Sweet, wonderful you? Not possible. Kids are going to be lined up asking to be your friend.

Amy giggled. Aww, Mom.

They will be. Right down the block and around the corner. In fact, every kid in town is going to be lined up.

That’s silly. Amy giggled, reaching her arms around Maddie’s neck.

Maddie hugged back. Okay, halfway down the block. She paused. You will make friends. You’ll see.

Amy nodded then hesitated, her features pinched in an I-have-more-to-ask way.

What is it, honey?

Amy sighed. Dad really messed everything up, didn’t he?

Maddie bit her bottom lip to keep from shouting hell, yes but it was be-the-better-person time. Sometimes, when we get older, things change. The things we used to want we don’t want anymore. We want different things.

Like Daddy wanting a different wife?

Ouch. Blunt, but accurate, as only a seven-year-old could be. That’s right. But Daddy’s feelings for you and Chelsea and Jeremy will never—ever—change. Do you understand?

How do you know?

I just know. Maddie shrugged. And besides, he told me.

Gratified that her questions had been answered to her satisfaction, Amy popped off her mother’s lap then gave Maddie one last hug. Goodnight, Mommy. She danced across the parlor to the foyer then up the steps.

Maddie smiled. When you were seven-years-old, even going to bed was an occasion to dance.

She poured the last of the wine into her glass then tucked herself into the corner of the couch.

She had to agree with Amy.

Her ex had screwed up big time. Whether it was a change of heart or a midlife crisis really didn’t matter. The end result was the total destruction of what she thought her world had become, the demolition of their family, of herself, of where she thought her place in the world was and what her future would be. The last six months had been a long landmine-strewn road full of twists and turns, most of them going uphill.

When the details had been worked out and the judge’s gavel fell for the last time, from ‘til death do us part had been short-circuited. Maddie had the kids, the internet business she had built and the minivan. Joe had the house, his Corvette and a fiancée who couldn’t be the next Mrs. Joseph Pearce fast enough.

The day she got back from court was the same day her mother had phoned to remind Maddie of Aunt Lulu’s house. She remembered the conversation as one of their typical exchanges.

Hello, Maddie. Now that your husband has kicked you and the children to the curb—

Ex-husband. And I have the house until the end of the year.

Well at least he did that much. I’m calling to remind you that Lulu’s dreadful house is still standing. Though God only knows why. To persecute me I’m sure. That big, cold horror—

Mom.

Probably infested with mice—

Mom.

And bats—

Mom!

Well, I just want you to remember that it’s here. You might as well use it since it is going be yours one day. Just give me time to have it cleaned properly, which could take a month.

That conversation had been the jump shift Maddie needed. In less than two months, she had her house packed up, the children’s school records transferred and even found a special school for Jeremy that was within an hour’s drive. The only hitch was that the school currently had no openings, so Jeremy’s name was on the waiting list. The director of the school told her that the average time spent on the waiting list was eight months but it could be a year.

Maddie looked at the three pictures on the mantle. Her pictures of the children had been the first things she had unpacked. Somehow putting up their pictures instantly made a place home. She ran her finger over the middle picture.

Jeremy.

Ten years old, her only son, born in the much-maligned middle-child position. So exquisitely handsome with his dark features and flawless skin that people regularly told him so. Only Jeremy never reacted. He stayed in his own world, not speaking, barely making eye contact or even changing facial expressions.

She and Joe had noticed it before Jeremy had even learned to sit up. At first they thought he was deaf, but tests determined normal hearing. Over the first few years, they had taken him to the best specialists and had spent countless hours, not to mention boat loads of money trying to find out why Jeremy didn’t respond. No one was able to tell them anything useful. The diagnosis was always autism, but Jeremy didn’t fit with any of the internet information Maddie found

Early on, she had joined autism support groups, learning what other parents had attempted, trying play therapy and changes in diet all the newest things loving parents of autistic children made a part of their lives, most of them having varying degrees of success. Except Maddie and Jeremy. As hard as she worked trying one thing after the other, Maddie was never able to report any progress to her group.

This thing called autism was a big, mean, grizzly beast. A monster that tenacious, frazzled parents stared down, spit in the eye then wrestled with every single day. Maddie admired and respected these parents more than anyone else on the planet. She cried with them over their failures, genuinely cheered and secretly envied their successes.

Over time, Joe grew weary of daily skirmishes lost, of medical battles un-won, of wars eternal. Maybe it was the inability to accept that he could not fix something that as the man, the father, he believed it was his job to fix. As the momma-lion, Maddie fought on, and as the days stretched to years a wall seemed to form—bricks made of loneliness, resentment, exhaustion—until it stood between them, blocking their view of each other. And when Joe finally turned away from the wall, there was Friskykitty sniffing his butt.

Ick.

She took another drink to wash the taste of that thought from her mouth.

Now, Maddie was standing on the front porch of a new life, one of a single mother working out of her house and living four blocks away from her—uh, thorny mother. A thirty-three year-old divorcee, no longer desirable to the man she had devoted her life to, with a wardrobe bought on sale, still wearing the last ten pounds of post-partum weight no matter what she tried and with increasing quantities of gray hiding in her brown hair—in other words, a stale joke.

Maddie finished off her wine.

Give yourself a break, Mad. You’ve had a rough decade. You’ll make it back. I hope. She stood, immediately feeling the wine-induced buzz. Oh my, a little too much of the happy grape. Time for bed.

She walked into the foyer to check the door then turned, tripping over the broom. Catching her balance, Maddie took the broom to the closet under the steps.

When she opened the door the broom hit the floor.

Chapter Two

Mooom, this is unbelievable, a voice wailed from outside the borders of sleep. My life is ruined, you know.

When Maddie opened her eyes, last night’s wine-fest bludgeoned the inside of her skull. She did a quick scan of her surroundings. Four-poster bed, flowered wallpaper, lacy curtains and disgruntled fifteen year-old glaring from the doorway—yup, this was her life.

She sat up. Good morning, Chelsea.

Her oldest child marched into the room, blonde hair swinging, eyebrows gathered toward the bridge of her nose and attitude flying everywhere like a dog shaking off after a bath. Do you know what’s going on downstairs?

Maddie flipped back the covers to bring her legs over the side of the bed. What?

Amy is trying to show Jeremy how to make breakfast.

Maddie slid her feet into her chemise slippers. Isn’t she sweet?

Crazy is a better word, Chelsea said. Have you seen that kitchen? It’s ancient. I’m surprised we have running water and what is up with that…chubby refrigerator?

Maddie smiled. Chubby was a good way to describe the retro fridge.

It looks like a cartoon. There is hardly anything in it by the way.

Maddie rubbed her eyes. What are they trying to make?

Cereal.

Grabbing her robe, Maddie slid off the bed. That’s it?

And toast, but that stupid toaster is so old, it could blow up and kill us all.

I doubt that, Maddie said, heading out the door. As she made her way down the stairs the sound of china breaking and liquid splashing was followed by Amy’s uh-oh.

The scene in the kitchen was about what Maddie expected, cereal circles floating like life preservers on a milk river over the table before cascading over in a dairy version of Victoria Falls to the floor. Jeremy was holding the milk carton and Amy was trying to stop the white river with her hands.

Hi, you two. What’s going on?

Oh h-hi, Mom, Amy replied. I was just trying to help Jeremy make his own breakfast. He really wanted to do it.

Maddie knew that wasn’t true—Jeremy never initiated things—but it was sweet of Amy to engage him in something. She grabbed a bowl from the drain board and the towel from the counter. Sopping up the milk on the table, she squeezed the towel into the bowl.

I’ll get the mop, Amy said, already on her way out of the kitchen.

Thanks, Maddie called out. Then she remembered. Wait a minute! Scrambling to her feet, Maddie ran out to the foyer, using the newel post at the bottom on the steps to make the corner. Amy, wait!

What is it? Amy asked from the closet under the stairs.

Maddie peeked in the open door. The closet was a closet with shelves at the back and empty space under the steps. Interspersed were fuzzy glimpses of what she saw last night. It reminded her of Grandma’s television picture when the rabbit ears needed adjusting.

Amy came out of the closet lugging the mop and bucket. What’s wrong?

Once Amy was back in the hallway, the closest immediately changed to the view she had seen last night. Maddie slammed the door. Nothing.

Chelsea was watching from mid-staircase with her arms folded and her head shaking. Mom, you can be so weird sometimes.

Maddie gestured for Amy to precede her then followed her daughters. It didn’t take long to have the mess taken care of and breakfast served. Maddie finally poured her much-needed coffee. I’ll go grocery shopping today. What does everyone want for dinner?

Spaghetti, Amy said.

Crepes, Chelsea said.

Amy frowned. What’s that?

Pancakes, Maddie said over her shoulder.

Chelsea rolled her eyes. What I have to deal with. She looked at Amy. They are French and they’re very thin pancakes filled with fruit or meat and stuff.

Jeremy? Maddie said. Do you have any ideas?

Jeremy glimpsed at Maddie then went back to his cereal.

He’s not going to answer you, Chelsea said.

He might, Maddie replied.

As if. Chelsea jammed her spoon into her cereal.

The doorbell rang followed quickly by the sound of the front door opening. Hello, her mother’s voice rang out, is anyone home?

Grandma! Amy jumped down from her chair and ran into her grandmother’s open arms.

You’re here. You’re finally all here.

Chelsea waved her spoon and smiled her greeting. Jeremy stopped, glanced at his grandmother a moment then continued eating.

Good morning, Mom. Coffee?

Yes, thank you, her mother said, following Amy to the table and taking a seat. How was your first night in your new home?

It was pretty good, Amy replied. Owls are noisy though.

This isn’t home, Chelsea