Chapter 1
one
. . .
Fermena
“Shit!” she jumps up in bed. “I did not want to sleep this long.”
Fermena is a girl who likes getting up with the sun and enjoys her morning tea while watching the sun rise across the rolling hills from her back porch.
She is a girl who is about her rituals, because without them, she would be lost. Although she misses sunrise, she tries her best to start her day off on the right foot.
With her ADHD, she needs order and systems to keep herself on track.
Between 9:30 AM and 10:00 AM, she is usually out in the garden tending to her herbs, but without breakfast in her belly, she will be no good.
“Change of plans,” she huffs, dragging herself into the bathroom, hoping to get the push she needs to start her day.
She grabs her neuropathy tincture from the bathroom cabinet, placing two drops under her tongue, and winces from the sharp, earthy taste.
Her herbal tinctures possess the healing magic to cure anything known to man.
This tincture specifically helps her get the boost she needs to seize the day, especially when her routines are disrupted.
As the only medicine woman in her small town, she is the go-to for the entire population.
Although there aren’t many people in her area, she needs an extra boost to attend to incoming orders, clients, and newly needed herbal remedies.
Fermena stares at herself in the mirror, taking in the crust and dried tears from the night prior surrounding her eyes.
“Gemini,” she whispers as images of her late lover flash through her mind.
“You will love again,” echoes through her mind. How can she be so sure? Love like that doesn’t come by often.
While brushing her teeth, she takes in the fullness of her lavender curls.
After spitting the remainder of her toothpaste into the sink, she begins to speak aloud to herself—something she does often—running down a list of things she has going on for the day.
Many times when she needs guidance, she speaks to herself to find the answers; her intuition never misleads her.
Rubbing her fingers through her tresses, she smirks, “There’s never a dull moment with you.
” She spritzes her mane with her newly homemade herbal hair oil and brushes it into a high bun.
As she continues getting ready for the day, she slips on a colorful tribal muumuu her grandmother made.
Brown bold triangles fill the pattern of the garment, leading into orange sunflowers stitched by hand.
She enjoys wearing her muumuu, as it was sewn with love from her grandmother and reminds her of the rich tapestry in her bloodline.
Not only was her grandmother an amazing seamstress, but she was also the matriarch of her family who taught her everything she knew.
Fermena is named after her grandmother, a name that carries weight.
Her grandmother was the backbone of her family, who kept everyone together.
Whether it be praying over the sick, healing the wounded, or needing a stern talking to, Nana Mena was there to pour into every soul that graced her presence.
Nana was the reason Fermena did the healing work she does today.
She raised and taught her everything she knows about using roots to create healing, speaking to alchemize energy, and using conjure to harness the power of their ancestors.
Today is a very important day when Fermena will reconnect with the spirit of her grandmother to participate in an ancestral ritual.
Each month, she partakes in a full moon ceremony to release any energy within herself that no longer serves the highest good of her bloodline.
Although many of her loved ones are no longer with her, she keeps their bloodline alive through ancestor veneration, preserving their spirits and memories.
Fermena makes her way to the front of her home, where her ancestor altar sits.
It is a grandiose chocolate walnut table that spans the entire wall, covered in a lace white tablecloth as it sits underneath large glass bay windows.
The altar is filled with portraits of family members who have passed; her grandfather, great aunts, uncles, cousins, and her heart, Nana Mena.
She picks up the portrait of her grandmother, admiring her beauty.
She was dressed in white garments, her hair pinned back, revealing the beauty of her high cheekbones, as she wore a gentle smile.
Placing two fingers to her lips, Fermena kisses them and places her fingers on the photo.
“Miss you, Nana,” she says softly.
White candles of all sizes fill the altar, some in glasses, and others sit on plates to catch the wax.
In between the candles lay small trinkets and jewelry that once belonged to each loved one.
Eight glasses of water sit upon the table, providing each spirit with energy to help elevate their energy.
Four brown hand-carved vases are filled with flowers from Fermena’s garden.
The sweet scent of the roses and lavender fills her nose as she leans over, grabbing each glass of water and placing it onto a rolling bar cart. She removes the plates of food that were given as an offering. Humming a sweet tune, she makes her way to the kitchen to discard the day's old food.
Fermena spends the morning tending to her altar by cleaning it and restoring each glass of water.
She prepares a full breakfast of waffles, eggs, bacon, and grits—her family’s favorite.
After making herself a plate, she prepares a few servings as an offering to her ancestors.
Each morning, she spends breakfast sitting on a pillow at the foot of the altar, sharing space with her loved ones.
It fills her heart not only to remember them, but also to feel their presence each day, reminding her that she’s not truly alone.
Before eating, Fermena takes a deep breath in and releases a sigh, as she begins to feel the presence of her ancestors enter the room.
Saying a brief prayer, she welcomes them to feast on the breakfast she has prepared for them.
As their spirits fill the room, she looks to her left to see Nana Mena rocking in a white wooden chair that sits in the corner of her living space.
A gentle melody fills the room as Fermena smiles, feeling the warmth of her grandmother’s love.
“Nana Mena,” Fermena says.
Her grandmother’s eyes remain closed as she continues to rock back and forth.
“I feel so lost these days,” Fermena continues, dropping her head. “Ever since Gemini left, I’ve lost hope of finding love again. How can I experience a love like that again?”
Nana Mena’s humming fades as she opens her eyes, the chair still rocking. Her eyes soften, “Patience, child,” she says. “Love comes in divine timing. You can’t rush what’s destined.”
That is not what Fermena wants to hear. Although Nana Mena is speaking truth, she wants to be given a blueprint for what she can do today to get past her loneliness. “What the hell am I going to do with divine timing?” she thinks.
“Nana,” Fermena sighs. Choosing her words carefully, she doesn’t want to mispeak and get a shoe thrown at her from the other side. She is sure it will hurt just as much as it did when her grandmother was on earth. “What—”
“Divine timing, child,” Nana Mena says, cutting Fermena off. She can sense her frustration, but knows that is all Fermena needs to know for now. “In due time.”
Before Fermena can muster up another word, her grandmother fades into the light.
Pushing her eggs around on her plate, she feels defeated.
Divine timing has no specific time or date and can occur whenever and wherever.
Her grandmother’s words aren’t enough for Fermena, so she isn’t going to wait around.
She wants to end her loneliness as soon as possible.
“Girl! Are you ready or not?”
“I’m coming!” Fermena shouts as she gathers a blanket and two white pillar candles before rushing out of the back door.
The full moon peaks in the night sky as she steps off the back porch with her items in tow.
Her bare feet sink into the grass as she makes her way through the garden and down the small trail that leads to an opening area behind her home.
In the center of the space lay a small stone fire pit that doesn’t get much action because it is always hot these days.
Wooden benches for gatherings surround it, but the seats always remain empty because Fermena doesn’t have much company outside of her best friend.
“Here,” she says, shoving the blanket into Saraia’s hands. “I said I was coming.”
Saraia snickers.
Saraia wouldn’t be Saraia if she weren’t rushing Fermena.
Saraia is Fermena’s best friend from childhood, and they have been thick as thieves since diapers.
From growing up in the same town to rolling down grassy hills together, they have been inseparable since they met.
Nana Mena used to look after Saraia after school, filling their tummies up with warm gumbo every afternoon.
If it wasn’t for her, Saraia may have never eaten a meal because her mother was rarely around.
With Saraia spending most days with Fermena, they became sisters, closer than blood and thicker than water.
Saraia, like Fermena, was taught by Nana about the importance of using herbs to heal.
From then on, the girls practiced their healing and rituals together, which had grown stronger since Nana's passing. They believe that Nana’s powers were passed down to them, amplifying their healing abilities and strengthening their spiritual senses.
Saraia spread out a large blanket that Nana Mena wove, placing it on the ground. They both take a seat as Fermena proceeds to place white candles around them.
“You got the lighter?” Fermena asks.
“Yup,” Saraia says, reaching into her tote bag.