Given the right ingredients, Mom could conjure up the most amazing meals, and today was no exception. I imagined she’d been fussing over her stove ever since Jimmy had warned her that Matt and his new wife were coming to visit. Even before I walked through the door, my senses were attacked by the delicious aroma of butterscotch and spices. Wow! Mom was pulling out all the stops. She clearly wanted Sylvia Allen to like her.
I was not disappointed by the stack of goodies she’d conjured since hearing the news. Even now, she stood over a fresh batch of shortbread cookies. Her apron was covered in flour as she waved her hands in the air, weaving intricate patches of colored icing on the tops. Mom was an earth witch who prided herself on never using a wand and only exercising silent incantations. She had no desire to learn new magic or ley line magic and had a deep dislike of the unknown. She was fond of saying if she couldn’t stick it in a pot and pop a label on it, she didn’t want it in her house.
She looked up as I walked in. “Hello! Isn’t it exciting? What’s she like then? What did you think of her? Is she one of us?”
By that I knew she meant earth witch. I waited for Mom to catch a breath before answering. “She seemed nice enough, but I only saw her for a minute. She didn’t say much, just hello, ya know?”
“What does she look like? Is she pretty?”
“Slow down!” I helped myself to a sugarcoated pecan puff. It imploded in my mouth the second I chomped on it. No one could make puffs like Mom. “She had a nice face. I’d say she was a little bit younger than you, maybe. I think you’ll get along.”
“But is she, you know, an earth witch?”
“How should I know? I only saw her for a second.” Hmmm. She had been holding a wand, but I thought it prudent to skip mentioning this.
Mom opened her mouth to say something, but our attentions were both drawn to the stomping and squealing overhead. Not that I batted an eyelash. Being one of ten kids—six home-grown, four adopted—constant screaming and shouting was part of my normal day.
“I’ve banished them upstairs while I work on these cookies. Your dad is cleaning them up and keeping them quiet-ish.”
Quiet-ish, in our house, meant under 7.5 on the Richter scale. Not that I was complaining. I was used to it.
Jimmy sauntered in from another room. He sat down at the table in front of the cookies but didn’t take one. He stretched his leg and elevated it, testing it out. “Did your ghost friend turn up?”
I could have slapped him. Mom immediately stopped what she was doing and glared at me. “Please don’t tell me we’re back to that again? Cat!”
“Does it matter? I mean, I’m twenty-one. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“Nearly twenty-one, Cat. You’re not there yet. Well? Did you see something?”
I knew what Mom wanted me to say. That the old feelings had died inside me and she had nothing to worry about. Not that I thought that there ever had been anything to worry about. I figured Gaia wouldn’t bless me with a gift I shouldn’t possess, but clearly Mom thought otherwise. I shook my head. “No.” When she wasn’t looking, I shot Jimmy a foul look. He pretended not to notice. Snitch.
Mom narrowed her eyes, as if she didn’t believe me. “I keep telling you all, nothing good comes from meddling with the dead. That’s dark magic, that is, and we haven’t had a dark witch in this family for generations. We don’t need one now.”
“I didn’t meddle. I saw a ghost, one time, and that’s all. I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal of it, really. It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong.”
Before Mom could answer, we all heard the gate slam outside. She whipped off her apron and hid it inside the pantry. The noise escalated upstairs, followed by what sounded like a herd of elephants on the stairs. Dad appeared first, then a swarm of younger siblings.
“These look good,” Dad said. Like me, he selected a pecan puff and popped one in his mouth. As the others reached to do the same, Mom swatted away their hands.
“Wait. You can have some soon enough. Don’t mess with my display.”
With a swish of her hand and a silent incantation, all the flour was out of her hair and off her clothes, which twisted into a pretty updo. She wasn’t bad looking for a witch of her age, which was good for me because I was told I looked just like her. Mom had black hair, now graying a little at the temples, hazel eyes with long lashes, and pretty lips that were forever smiling. She wore a long, blue bay dress she’d picked up at the beach and liked wearing around the house. Dad looked casual enough in jeans and a loose shirt. He was a handsome man, but the years had turned his hair completely white, and there were worry lines around the edges of his eyes. I sometimes wondered if the last kids we’d adopted were two kids too many for him. Still, he never complained, his philosophy being, if it made my Jane happy…
When the Allens knocked at the door, Mom dashed to answer it, and Dad sneaked in another puff behind her back. He saw me watching and winked at me. I grinned back.
“Well, hello and welcome.” Mom stood back, holding the door wide enough for them to pass. She looked a little flustered, but I knew she was delighted to let the newlyweds come inside.
Matt ushered his bride before him. Now that Sylvia was out of the car, the marked differences between the couple were even more evident. Matt’s gray, loose-fitting shirt did nothing to mask the painful thinness of his gangly arms, legs, and shoulders. For a rich warlock, he sure didn’t look like he had much to live on. In contrast, Sylvia looked like she’d never missed a meal in her life, but she carried her extra pounds well, and though ruddy, she had a very pretty face with twinkling eyes that suggested much mischief. Her long black hair showed no signs of graying but was scooped up under a black beret. She wore a long black dress with dark-green collar, typical of the more traditional of our kind, and cuffs that swept down to the floor, covering her neatly polished, and surprisingly tiny, sandaled feet. Thankfully, there was no sign of her magic wand, which might have caused Mom to pop a vein. I wondered if Matt had warned her about that.
“Thank you.” Matt stepped over the threshold and wiped his dusty Crocs on the mat. “Let me introduce you to my lovely new wife, Sylvia. Darling, this is Ricky and Jane Morland, Jimmy and Catherine you met earlier, and these are all their lovely children.” He swept his arm around the room. My brothers and sisters were too excited to stand still, and introductions at this point would have been nigh impossible.
“I’m so happy to meet you. My, my, you have so many children.” Rather than being overwhelmed, Sylvia looked delighted by their numbers, though more than once she had to dodge out the way of a wild young sibling of mine darting about her feet.
“We were blessed with ten.” Dad covered his irony by scooping one of the ten up into his arms. He tossed him over his shoulder, and as soon as I realized he’d grabbed our youngest, Joe, my baby brother climbed down and ran off again and into another room.
“I’m afraid Gaia hasn’t favored me with that blessing yet.” There was no bitterness in her tone. So much for introducing me to a potential boyfriend, I thought. Sylvia’s attention fixed on the cookie tower, and after a moment, she smiled up at Mom. “Did you conjure these yourself? They look delicious.”
“I did, thank you for noticing.”
Mom pulled out another chair for Matt, and he slid in beside his wife. “I was just going to put the kettle on to brew something nice. Would you like some? It’s my own recipe, made with loose-leaf black tea, blended with sweet apples, cinnamon, and spices. I add a touch of vanilla for smoothness.”
“That sounds amazing. I’d love some.”
Mom puttered about by the sink, pouring cold water into her cast-iron kettle. She set it on the stove and lit the burner, and then began fussing about with her favorite pewter-colored mugs. She never used any kind of magic to make tea—never. She said it never tasted right, no matter how good the spell. Amy, my youngest sister, insisted on getting under her feet so Mom shooed her away from the stove and out of the kitchen. It was quieter now all my siblings had run off elsewhere to play.
“How long have you lived here?” Sylvia’s gaze swept our rustic kitchen, adorned with garlands of dry flowers and herbs, and with shelves stacked with Mom’s pots and pans and old cookbooks. Thick oak beams supported the ceiling, which over the years had been etched to show the names and dates of some of the people who lived here.
Dad scraped a chair across the floor and took a seat adjacent to them. “My family settled here back in the seventeenth century, and there’s been a Morland in this house ever since.”
“Indeed?” Sylvia looked impressed. While the kettle boiled, she helped herself to a plain butterscotch cookie. Her eyes rolled with delight. “Mmmm, Matt darling, you need to try one of these. They’re simply divine.”
Matt reached over and politely did as he was told. He nibbled the cookie carefully and nodded his approval. “You’re a lucky man, Ricky.”
Mom beamed. “What about you, Sylvia dear? Where are you from?”
Sylvia smiled, her hand hovering over the cookies as she debated what flavor to tackle next. “My people live in New York City now, although I’m proud to say I can trace my line back to Salem. We still have friends and family there.”
“Do you go back there much?” Mom put a hot mug down in front of her, and Sylvia breathed in deeply.
“Smells divine. Not as often as I should.”
“I imagine New York to be a very exciting place,” I said, taking a seat at the table and helping myself to an iced sugar cookie. Mom glanced at me but didn’t stop me. Sitting so close, I caught the distinct scent of pumpkin spice and vanilla.
Sylvia sipped her tea and turned to focus on me. “Have you never been? I’m surprised, seeing how you live so close.”
“I’ve never been out of town. I’d like to one day. When I’m of age.”
“How old are you?”
I didn’t mind her asking. “Twenty-one. On Friday as a matter of fact.”
Sylvia’s gaze turned upward as she thought. “That means you were born on a Wednesday.”
I nodded. “Yes, yes, I believe I was.”
“Wednesday’s child is full of woe.” Sylvia said this more to herself than to me.
“I never did like that rhyme.”
Sylvia’s thoughts returned to earth. “Why’s that?”
“Well, you know, I’d rather have the fair of face option.”
“Well, you got that, didn’t you? Anyway, I never take the woe thing literally. It just means you’ll be challenged and will have difficulties to overcome. This isn’t always a bad thing, Catherine. Challenges build character.”
I liked that she knew my name already. And I liked her. Maybe it was because she’d seen something of the world, but I wanted to know more about her. I could have asked her lots of things on that first encounter, but I suspected Mom wouldn’t have approved, so instead I helped myself to one more pecan puff and sipped a little of my tea.
“So how did you two both meet?” Mom asked, anxious to get into the conversation.
While the elders talked, my thoughts turned inward, and I tried to imagine a magical life in New York. I’d heard the pixies in Central Park were smarter than the ones here in Pennsylvania, and the gargoyles on the churches a lot more menacing than the sleeping ones here in our village church. I hoped one day I would get to see them. If Mom would ever let me leave this village.
When I came down from the clouds, Matt was asking Dad whether he had any ginseng he could spare, and Mom had got up to boil some more water for the tea. Sylvia, however, was staring at me. I didn’t think she meant to be impolite—she just looked curious. Shy, I turned away, pretending to be interested in another cookie, although I’d really had enough.
“You can see them, can’t you?” My hand froze in midair before it reached the cookie.
“Excuse me?”
Dad and Matt leered at me curiously, then shrugged and continued with their conversation.
“The ghosts. They rise for you, don’t they?”
My mouth dropped open, because although I heard her, Sylvia’s lips hadn’t moved at all. Her eyes were twinkling as she stared at me over her cup. No one had heard her speak but me. Her voice was inside my head.
“I thought so.” Sylvia put her cup down and ran her finger around the rim. “Don’t be afraid, little one. We can talk later.”
My mother returned to the table and poured fresh water into the pot. Sylvia smiled as if nothing had happened. She sat a little forward, delighted at the second offering, but I knew I couldn’t sip another drop.
Nothing like that had ever happened to me before, and I was shocked at the ease with which she’d done it. I didn’t know whether to feel delighted or afraid, but one thing was for sure—I was intrigued. I didn’t leave the table for the remainder of their visit, but as much as I wanted her to, Sylvia didn’t speak to me that way again. I was disappointed, but what could I do? It wasn’t as if I could answer in kind.
At last, Matt stood up and stretched his thin arms.
“What, are you leaving already?” Mom couldn’t have looked more disappointed.
“Yes, I think we should.” Matt stood behind his wife to help with her chair. “It’s been a long day for us both, and we could use an early night. I hope you don’t mind. Ricky, why don’t you pop over in the morning and I’ll give you some of that ginseng you wanted?”
I tried not to smile and reveal my thoughts. They were newlyweds after all.
Sylvia turned to me. It was the first time she’d looked at me since doing the thing. “I’d love that, Jane. I’m new to the village. Perhaps you and Catherine could show me around?”
Mom sighed. “You know I would really like that, but I clean over at old Edith’s in the morning. I help a few of our elderly neighbors a couple of times a week. It wouldn’t be fair to cancel on such short notice, but maybe Catherine could come over. You have nothing going on, do you, Cat?”
I shook my head, delighted at the opportunity to visit Sylvia on my own. “No, not that I can think of. We should all be done with breakfast by then.”
“Well, that’s settled. Would nine o’clock be too early?”
“Not at all, I’ll see you then.”
Matt and Sylvia made ready to leave, but quick as a flash, Mom pulled a flat box out of a drawer, and with a wave of her hand, it twisted into an assembled box. She filled it full of cookies and handed them to Sylvia. “Please. Take these with you, with my compliments. It was lovely meeting you. We’re so happy you’ve come to our little village.”
“As am I.” When no one was looking, Sylvia winked at me. “See you in the morning.”
I nodded.
“Good-bye,” Mom said.
“Bye.” Dad closed the door behind them and went off in search of the kids, who were conspicuous by their silence.
I sat down, anxious to hear the inevitable after-visit autopsy. If that meant being buried under a swarm of cookie-eating monsters, then so be it.
While my parents swapped notes, and my brothers and sisters devoured the remains of the cookie tower, I pondered whether to tell Mom about what had just happened. Every lesson and fable grilled into us since childhood screamed to me that I should, and that this was exactly the sort of thing Mom would want to know. But another voice inside me told me I should keep my mouth shut about it.
What if Mom forbade me from going anywhere near Sylvia? If I told her she had microwaved her thoughts into my head, Mom would probably go mental. She would say this was dark magic, conjured by a dark witch. But if she stopped me, how would I ever learn how to do that myself? No, I couldn’t and wouldn’t miss this opportunity. So, while my parents went back and forth on the color of Sylvia’s dress and how happy Matt was looking, I resolved not to breathe a word about any of it to either of them. Something strange and magical had just happened to me. Somehow Sylvia had known I could connect with the dead. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow when I’d have Sylvia all to myself and could ask her all about it. There would be no sleep for me tonight, that was for sure. But I had something new to learn about myself, and that was a whole lot more important than an undisturbed forty winks. I could hardly wait to hear what Sylvia had to say.