in the middle

They'd miss seeing them off, about 20 minutes.

"Now what do we do?" Gage looked at Molly as if he knew she did it on purpose.

"I guess we'll hang out, until they get back." She was all smiles.

"Whatever." He shrugged, ever so indifferent.

"Look, I have a guestroom. Molly and Dusty stay with me when they come to University." She promised it was fine. "Besides, what have you done since you've gotten here? Babysit?"

"Its not really babysitting." He pressed his lips tight. He'd never feel like that with Alec. "Besides, its not really babysitting until you get a whole room of kids." He definitely knew the difference.

So they went back to her place. Her sister was there with her boyfriend Archie. They were in their own zone, playing a video game.

"You, need some time off." Molly informed her sister and Archie they were going to keep Alec while they went out.

"Oh No." Gage didn't like the idea. "Halie would really..kill me...if I wasn't with Alec 24/7."

"She doesn't have to know." Molly smiled.

"She would know. She would definitely know." Of course, Gage wasn't sure if it were her psyche or maybe she was actually a witch. He definitely didn't want to be cursed with what ever Halie came up with.

There had been a funeral. Macy just didn't feel herself, even if she had Chandler on one side and Oz on the other. It was over so quickly. Not even a body in sight. Just a picture of her grandmother, that was taken about 10 years ago on her front porch.

"She must have had it, all planned." Macy tried not to shed another tear, but she did. The whole service barely lasted 30 minutes.

A few of the people who knew her got up and spoke about her.

Some man said that she always told him he looked better with a beard.

Macy found herself almost laughing.

Of course, she'd never known her grandfather, her mother's father. It was an enlightening story her mother told of Margret, who was a war orphan. She'd met Kenneth at the end of World War II. She was a runaway bride who came to America from England.

Macy guessed she knew this. Although, Margret never spoke of England. Her voice was slow and she'd long lost her speech pattern of her childhood voice after mini-strokes, Macy guessed. She'd never thought of her grandmother from some other country.

But England.

It perked her up. The thought of taking her grandmother's ashes to England. It felt like now.... She had to go.