Read Feathers (A Witch Central Morsel) for Free Online Page B

never leaving hers.  “Sometimes you miss when you swing.  And sometimes you hit it over the fences.”
    She could hear the end he didn’t say.  Lots of life lessons that might appeal to certain someones wanting to feel worthy of their feathers.  Oh, hell.  The dregs of her cup grated as they went down Lauren’s throat.  She stood up, reaching for her husband’s hand.  If baseball was the way Witch Central was watering itself today, she’d tromp all over Costa Rica looking for a field.
    His smile pushed the caffeine fast and hard into her veins.  And totally distracted her from the presence in front of her until she nearly ran him over.
    “Yeesh—sorry, Téo.”  Lauren pushed herself gently back from his chest, apologizing to both him and her jangled brain.  Definitely not enough coffee.
    He smiled, looking far too awake.  “I hear you need a baseball diamond.”
    He heard everything.  “You got any of those here in the rainforest?”
    The man with dark eyes and a new blue feather in his hair snorted.  “This is Costa Rica.  We have them tucked behind every tree.”  He nodded his head.  “Come, I’ll show you my favorite.  It’s a bit of a trek, but worth it, I think.”
    That figured.  She picked up her coffee mug.  All things would be better just as soon as she was fully caffeinated.
    -o0o-
    Nell surveyed her team.  They were a pretty motley crew, and way too many of them had a very loose connection to the actual rules of baseball.  Which she had about three minutes to fix.
    Helga chortled from under a bright pink hat.  “So we run that way after we hit the ball, right?”
    “Yup.”  Aervyn nodded helpfully.  “But you gotta put your foot on that white thing.  That’s the base, and if you don’t step on it, Gramma Retha gets to tickle you.”
    Nell grinned.  That rule probably didn’t apply to players over ten.  Or maybe it did.  Gramma Retha didn’t generally play fair, and Daniel, captaining the other team, would be sure to have her manning first base.
    “You have to hit the ball first.”  Lizzie was swinging a bat experimentally.  “I’m not so good at it, though.”
    She would be today.  Daniel was pitching for the opposing team, and he had excellent aim.  And if he couldn’t land the ball on Lizzie’s bat, there were ten witches in attendance who would quietly help.
    Moira leaned over to Kevin, newly arrived from Fisher’s Cove with his brand-new baseball glove.  “You’re sure that makes catching the wee ball easier, are you?  Big lug of a thing it is.”
    “Yup.”  He grinned.  “It can handle a freight train.  So you can throw the ball at me as hard as you want.”
    Nell chuckled.  Moira had an impressive arm for a seventy-three-year-old, but she’d be hanging out in left field with Aervyn.  It was far more likely superboy would be the one hurling badly aimed balls back at the shortstop.
    And him, nobody would be helping.  Aervyn insisted on playing baseball with no magic—he had ever since he’d been old enough to understand the quiet help generally given to their littlest players.  He never seemed the least bit traumatized by his wild throws or even wilder turns at the plate.  Nell was fairly convinced he enjoyed the chance to be an entirely normal boy for a few hours.
    One with fairly hopeless baseball skills and a giggle that would get him picked to a team every time.
    The other team was heading onto the field.  Nell nodded at her eldest son.  “You want lead-off or cleanup?”
    “Cleanup.”  He grinned.  “I think Helga should bat first.  Dad’s totally scared of her.”
    Not a chance, but her son had come by his trash-talking skills honestly.  And Helga didn’t seem the least bit cowed by the fact that she knew absolutely nothing about baseball.  Carefully, she adjusted her hat to a closer approximation of Nathan’s and then swaggered up to the plate, holding the wrong end of the bat.
    Nathan snickered and offered a