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The Proctors relied on geometry and Jacobean literature, and I used the poems of Emily Dickinson, but it was Fleetwood Mac who inspired my mother’s gramarye. There wasn’t much to distinguish between William Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson, and Stevie Nicks. They were all bards, after all, with magic in their pens. I showed Gwyneth the annotated lyrics. “She hid it in plain sight—in the words of her favorite songs. This is what she used to refresh old spells and keep them sharp.” Gwyneth gasped. “Rebecca used music?” “Apparently,” I replied, running my fingers across the underlining in “I Don’t Want to Know.” She’d written A powerful method for uncovering old secrets next to Finally baby / The truth has come down now.
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