Chapter 20
Dandelion sat perfectly still waiting patiently. The stage was set, now she just needed the actor to cooperate. This was her one chance so it had to go right. She heard the sound of Priya‘s footsteps coming down the hall and silently counted to herself, lifting her paw off the mouse‘s tail on three. The mouse’s tiny feet skittered over the hardwood as it dashed this way and that. You fool, she thought, you have only one job! She needed this mouse to stay on course. It veered left and almost crashed into the toe of Priya’s white patent leather kitten heel, using its front paws to scramble around the side of the shoe, and then darted at full speed in the direction of Alethea’s old bedroom. Priya let out a blood curdling shriek worthy of a scream queen in a slasher flick. She ran like she had been shot out of a cannon, dashing in the other direction of the mouse and leaping on top of the queen bed in the guestroom across the hall. Dandelion couldn’t believe it, that pipsqueak had actually done it!
Alethea dashedout of the drawing room towards the entryway, where she almost bumped into Brent as they both ran up the stairs towards Priya’s screams.
“RAT! RAT! It went into Alethea’s room! You have to kill it!” Priya was beside herself now, not willing to come down off the bed until she could be assured that the rodent was properly disposed of.
Brent looked at Alethea questioningly.
She shrugged. “She has a thing about rats. She even hates to take the subway.”
“It’s probably just a barn mouse if that helps at all.”
Alethea looked at Brent with exasperation and made a face like he had said the stupidest thing she had ever heard.
“Gotcha, all rodents are equally bad.” He was trying not to laugh. “I’ll get the broom, can you get a cardboard box? And maybe some gloves?” She nodded and they ran off their separate ways to gather the items needed.
“That’s perfect.” Brent took the small cardboard box from her hands when they reconvened.
“YOU GUYS ARE TAKING TOO LONG!” Priya’s wails were sounding even more hysterical and Brent’s eyes widened.
“Come on, let’s go get the little guy before she has a heart attack.”
“Oh no, I’m not killing a mouse! Sorry, you’re on your own with this one.” Alethea couldn’t even bring herself to squish a spider, so there was no way she was going to have any part in the death of an innocent rodent.
“Who said anything about killing? This is catch and release all the way.” Brent looked like he was surprised that she’d even propose such a thing.
“You promise?”
“Are you kidding me? I can’t kill a mouse! Do you have any idea how cute those things are?” He shook his head and laughed. “Just think of it like we’re relocating it to a new home.”
She giggled nervously and felt a wave of relief. Who knew he’d have such a soft spot?
“So I take it you’re not a big hunter?” Hunting season was a big deal around these parts and often the topic of conversation among men Brent’s age.
“God no!” He looked almost affronted at the thought.
She cocked her head and looked up at him quizzically. “You sure are full of surprises.”
“What, because I’m not a stereotypical man’s man?”
She nodded.
“Yeah, well, just imagine how fun high school was for me.” He said it sarcastically but his eyes twinkled with laughter. This was obviously a conversation he had had before. Did anything seem to faze this guy?
“WHAT’S GOING ON OUT THERE, IS IT DEAD YET!?”
“Come on,” he said and grabbed Alethea by the hand. Sizzling jolts of electricity seemed to shoot up her arm, but she forced herself to remain steady and kept her hand in his. With her hand engulfed in his strong palm, she felt warm and safe in a way she never had before. It was an odd sensation but one that just felt right somehow. She followed closely, heady from his scent of pine and frankincense, her body alive with the energy thrumming through her veins from being held in his grasp. Why did he have such an effect on her? She had never been one to get all mushy over a man, yet here she was swooning like the lead in one of her rom-com movies. She didn’t have time to contemplate the butterflies in her stomach for much longer, however, as she and Brent ran up the stairs and into her old bedroom.
Brent called out a few words of reassurance to Priya and then swung the door shut behind them, a black flash shooting through the doorway moments before the door closed. Dandelion had managed to squeeze her way in just in time. “Now where do you think the little guy is hiding?” Alethea got down on her hands and knees to look under the bed. “I’m sure Priya’s screams scared it half to death.”
“Uh-oh, I think I know.” Brent walked over to the armoire, where Dandelion was sitting stone still in front of the door that was slightly ajar. Brent opened the door all the way and bent down, pushing some old blankets out of the way and revealing a mouse hole that had been chewed through the back paneling.
“Well, that’s weird.” Brent turned on the flashlight that he had brought and shone it at the hole for a better look. “It looks like there’s some empty space behind here.” Setting the flashlight down, he stood up and went to one side of the armoire. “Here, help me push.” The imposing walnut cabinet had hand carved detailings but was mostly solid wood. It took a little effort, but the two of them managed to push the bulky piece of furniture. As the armoire slid across the floor, a large opening in the wall behind it came into view. The framed hole was about four feet high and three feet across, making it look like a small doorway. Alethea’s jaw dropped. Had this been here in her room the whole time she had grown up?
Brent opened the armoire again and examined the back panel closely. He searched with his fingers until Alethea could hear the sound of wood sliding against wood. “False panel.” He motioned for her to come take a look. “See? When you press here, this piece slides in like a pocket door. Then you can access the secret passageway without moving the dresser.” He shone his flashlight into the dark space cut into her bedroom wall.
“WHAT’S ALL THAT NOISE? IS IT DEAD YET?” Priya’s words, though muffled through the closed door, still sounded panicked but not quite as hysterical as a few minutes prior.
“Not yet!” Brent hollered back, then he turned to look at Alethea. “Come on, let’s check it out.” She instinctively reached for his hand and he took it, holding the flashlight steady with the other as they ducked down and made their way into the small enclosure. Once inside, Alethea realized it was actually just a tiny hallway. There was a small room directly to the left but hidden from view. Apparently, Aunt Scarlet”s penchant for a tidy house hadn’t extended to this hidden bit, as there were thick cobwebs clinging to the walls and ceiling.
Brent shone the flashlight around the small room. “Wow, this is so cool.” It appeared to be a small sitting area. The room was no more than six feet in either direction and a circular rug sat in the middle of the space. It looked like the rug had been made by hand, given the slightly uneven stitching. Alethea noticed it was an Egyptian theme with various symbols and patterns encircling a large Eye of Horus in the center. She knew Egyptian revival had been popular back in the Victorian era, so maybe the rug was original to the house. There was only one piece of furniture in the sparse room and her cat was currently attacking it. “Dandelion, no!”
Dandelion stretched up on her back paws as far as her small frame would allow. She was pawing frantically at the antique walnut secretary with a small hutch on top. It was a beautiful piece and matched the armoire and wardrobe in Alethea’s room, the set clearly crafted by the same skilled hands. The intricate mother of pearl inlay was so thin and detailed, it was a wonder how it was made. A twisting border of vines wove its way around the piece until they all joined in the center, encircling a single calla lily.
Alethea shooed Dandelion out of the way then gently turned the latch and lowered the writing table, exposing a niche of thin drawers and cubbies meant to hold all the accouterments of writing during the Victorian era. There was an inkwell built in next to a small drawer holding sealing wax and signets, above which a small bookshelf sat in the center. It was no more than eight inches high, meant to hold ledgers and small diaries. A handful of beautifully bound old books the color of deep burgundy sat with their spines facing out, the gilded lettering shining in the flashlight’s beam. They were in remarkably good condition given their probable age. Moonstone, Wuthering Heights, and in the center a book with no words at all, just a simple calla lily in gold on the spine, flanked by two stars.
Alethea’s hand seemed to reach out of its own accord and she gingerly pulled the book from the shelf. As it tipped forward towards her, a soft click echoed through the small room, like the sound of metal turning against metal. Alethea jumped back in surprise, the book refusing to dislodge all the way, slowly pulling itself back into position as if being moved by a pair of unseen hands. Alethea felt goosebumps on her bare arms as she looked closer to where the metal sound had originated and saw a thin drawer had popped out slightly. When recessed, the drawer looked like part of the decorative detailing bordering the section of cubby holes. She carefully slid the velvet-lined drawer open, revealing a small key with a midnight-blue silk tassel tied to the end.
“This is why I love old Victorian houses. They’re filled with so much history.” Brent looked around the small sitting room in awe. “Priya said that used to be your old room right? How crazy that this was back here the whole time and you never knew. ”
She nodded in agreement while turning over the key in her hand. Despite looking like iron, it felt warm to the touch.
“Is there a lock anywhere?” He shone the flashlight over the secretary so she could get a better look. She shook her head, no key hole that she could see.
Brent cast the flashlight around the edges of the room, until it settled in the corner on a shivering white mouse. Its eyes were closed and it was shaking with fear. “Come on little guy, I gotcha.” Brent gently nudged the mouse into the cardboard box and shut the lid, then glanced up. “Any chance you’re up for a ride?”
Alethea nodded, slipping the key into her pocket and pushing the small drawer shut before she followed Brent out of the secret room.
“The coast is clear!” he yelled to Priya.
Priya audibly sighed in relief and climbed down off the bed, but once she was out in the hallway and saw Brent carrying the closed cardboard box in his hands, she yelped and ran back into the guest room. “I’ll come out when it’s actually GONE!”
Alethea tried not to laugh at her friend’s rodent phobia and cleared her throat before she hollered back. “We’re getting it out of here, be back in a little bit!”
On their way out to his truck, Brent quickly ran into the kitchen and ripped a small chunk off the loaf of bread on the counter, slipping a couple morsels through the folded flaps of the box. They drove down the winding lane, the box sitting on Alethea’s lap. She held it steady but resisted the urge to peek inside. The poor little creature must be scared enough. Brent turned onto Main Street and drove its length, taking a side street at the other end that led to a long back road. They had only driven about a mile from her house when Brent pulled into a flagstone driveway. “I’ve got a big woodpile out back,” he explained. “A ton of little critters live back there. I’m sure Squeaky here will fit right in.” He gave her the kind of smile that said he knew he was trying to be charming.
Alethea rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, did you just call it Squeaky? You seriously named the mouse?”
“Well, everyone has a name.”
He said it so straight face and matter of factly that Alethea actually wondered if he was being serious. “At least he should have a proper name, not Squeaky. I think we need to have a serious talk about your animal naming conventions.”
He laughed brightly. “You may have a point.”
“Thank you, by the way. For the garden, I mean. I hadn’t had a chance to say that yet.”
Brent beamed at her remark, clearly pleased at her appreciation. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be mad at me for doing it after telling me you had other plans.”
“No, of course not. After all, you were right. All those herbs were buried under there all along, hidden away. They just needed a little love to bring them back.” She felt her cheeks blaze. Of all things to say, why on earth had she chosen to say that? She hadn’t meant to imply anything by it.
If Brent had noticed her discomfort, he didn’t give any indication and instead he just nodded his head in agreement. “I’m glad the tea helped, you definitely look well rested.”
Alethea shifted her weight in the seat. “I do?”
“Yeah, you look like you’re feeling really good.” His eyes ran over her face and her stomach did a flip when his gaze lingered.
“Better than I have in some time now.”
“Oh?” It was a simple remark, not even a question really. Just an invitation for her to talk. And talk she did. Everything came spilling out, how hard she had worked to impress her boss at the agency to get her career on an upward trajectory, and how all that had burned to the ground once she found out her fiancé had been having an affair with Susan. Brent mostly stayed quiet and listened, his facial expressions giving away his reactions without needing words, occasionally asking for clarification or prompting her to continue.
Brent shook his head once she had finished spilling her guts. “That’s an awful thing for someone to have to go through. I can’t imagine.”
“So I take it you’ve never been cheated on, then?” Alethea was genuinely curious.
“Nope. Or not that I know of, at least. To be honest, I haven’t had very many serious relationships.”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Really? You don’t strike me as the type who has a lack of dating options.”
He chuckled a little self-consciously and shrugged. “My friends are always on my case about it. They tell me I’m too picky. I guess I’ve just been waiting to find that right person.” The way he looked at her gave her goosebumps. “The women I’ve dated always seemed to have certain expectations about how a man like me should think and act. I don’t really fit into the stereotype they’re looking for.” He sighed. “That ends up being a disappointment for both parties involved.”
She thought she understood even though talking about dating with Brent made her feel queasy. Why had she rambled about her life story to him like that? Constantly acting like an idiot around him was getting old. No more of this nonsense, she needed to get this mouse dealt with and then hightail it back to the house where she didn’t have to be in such close proximity to Brent. It was like she couldn’t trust herself around him. She felt this urge to be near him but to run away at the same time. She managed to grab the handle of the car door and hop out of the truck without jostling the box too much.
Now that she was out of the truck, she had a better view of the modest craftsman with wood siding painted the color of balsam. It was set close to the road with very little front yard to speak of but, as they walked around the side of the house Alethea saw the backyard had a substantial lawn that opened up to woods on all three sides. His nearest neighbor was a quarter of a mile down the road, and the woods extended all the way to the state park.
“That’s one of the reasons I bought this place. It’s protected land back there so it’ll never be developed.” He led her around to the edge of the yard where a huge woodpile was stacked. She glanced back at the house and saw the two chimneys that flanked the roof, guessing that he must heat the whole place with wood burning stoves during the winter. Alethea looked at the charming porch, with pots of purple geraniums and yellow petunias lining the rail. She bet it felt cozy inside. Brent clearly had an appreciation for old houses and architecture, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he had furnished it with mid-century modern decor to match the house’s aesthetic.
“Okay Squeaky, time to make some new friends.” He went to take the box out of Alethea’s hands but she held fast to it.
Suddenly she felt oddly responsible for this little mouse. Brent continuing to call this thing by a name probably wasn’t helping matters either. “But what if we let him go here and he gets eaten?”
Brent shrugged. “Nature has to run its course. But I think Squeaky has better chances out here than back at your place with Priya and Dandelion.”
He had a point. Alethea knelt down in front of the stack of wood and placed the cardboard box on the ground, opening the top. The small white puffball held a tiny crumb of crust in its paws and popped the morsel into its mouth. “Hey there Squeaky. You’re free to go now.” She squeezed her eyes shut. Listen all you critters out here, you be nice to this mouse, you hear? It was silly to get so attached to a house pest like this but she couldn’t help it. Seeing the creature so scared when Brent had first found it, she couldn’t help but feel badly for it.
“Uh, Alethea?” Brent’s voice was barely more than a whisper but it jolted her back to the present. She opened her eyes and turned around to face him. “What?”
His eyes were wide as saucers. He pointed behind her and Alethea turned back around to the woodpile. Sitting atop the long stack of logs had to be at least two dozen little animals from the woods. A blue jay that stood barely inches from a garter snake made a loud shriek and started flapping about, just missing knocking a chipmunk in the head with its wings. Alethea let out a yelp and lurched backwards, scrambling to her feet. The creatures scattered at her sudden movements, the birds squawking as they went, the squirrels and chipmunks darting away so fast that they were mostly blurs of fur. The raccoon was the only one who took its time and lumbered off the woodpile, moving groggily as if just awoken from a nap.
“What the hell?” Alethea was shaking now, she felt like a nightmare version of Snow White. What had just happened?
“I think there’s something you should see.” Brent put his hands on her arms and gave them a brisk rub, as if to warm her up despite the summer heat. She resisted the urge to pull away and instead allowed herself to feel the electricity of his touch. It made every inch of her skin tingle. Miraculously, her shaking stopped. He led her into his house and motioned for her to sit on the small white linen couch.
She looked around, she hadn’t been too far off with her guess. The Scandinavian modern furnishings were minimalistic, yet cozy. Maybe not the Studio 54 vibe she had pictured but she had been close with the era, at least. Trying to distract herself by evaluating his decor wasn’t working and a replay of what had just happened outside flashed through her mind. One minute she had been saying some parting words, hoping for Squeaky’s safety, and the next thing she knew she had an entire audience of woodland creatures assembled in front of her!
Brent came back into the den carrying a book and a glass of water. The book was about the size of a photo album and judging by the different colored papers sticking out of the pages here and there, Alethea guessed it was some kind of scrap book.
She looked up and tried to read his face. “Tell me you saw that, too. Because if you didn’t see that then I’m definitely going insane.” Alethea tried to push down the panic that had been building inside her. Why were all these weird things going on and why did they always seem to happen when Brent was around? The room began to feel smaller than it had and the air more stifling. She didn’t want to look at some stupid scrapbook, she needed to get out of here. She wanted to run away. Away from this small town and crazy house, away from scared mice, and glowing, and floating, and gangs of forest animals. Away from Brent Cornerstone’s green eyes and away from cheating fiancés and liars. She wanted to run away to where chaos and pain didn’t exist. But of course, there was nowhere to run. So instead she was stuck on Brent Cornerstone’s Scandinavian loveseat waiting for him to respond.
“If by ‘that’ you mean every critter in the woods suddenly lining up in your presence then yes, I saw that.” He sat down next to Alethea and placed the large book in her hands.
She was surprised to see an intricate leather cover, which seemed way too fancy for a scrapbook. In the center worked into the leather was a raven carrying a small branch in its mouth. Yew, Alethea thought. Why had that popped into her mind? It looked like any twig, but for a reason she couldn’t explain she somehow knew it was meant to represent a branch from a Yew tree. She held the book and looked over at Brent. “What’s this?”
“It was my grandmother’s. I found it with her stuff the other day when I was searching for the tea recipe. She was pretty private but I think she’d want you to have it. Nan was really big on education. All of the women in her family were highly educated actually, which was pretty unusual for the time.” His face held a reverent smile. He clearly thought very highly of the woman. “She even paid for me to go to college even though I told her I was dead set on working on houses for a living. She said that was fine, education didn’t have to just be for your career.”
“Education for the sake of one’s own personal growth. I totally get your grandma.” Alethea smiled as she ran her fingers over the worn leather of the scrapbook. She thought she would have probably liked to meet this woman. The cover had a rich patina from long years of hands opening and closing the book. But what did he mean that his grandmother would want her to have an old scrapbook to educate herself? None of that made any sense. He sounded as crazy as she felt!
“I’m hoping you’ll find it helpful so you can come to terms with what’s been going on. I mean, if you really don’t know, that is?” He looked a little uncomfortable and awkwardly ran his fingers through his hair.
Alethea was bewildered. What was he talking about? What did he know? How could his grandmother’s scrapbook help her? She opened the book and began slowly flipping through its pages. There were newspaper and magazine clippings, important goings on in the town or in the lives of those around her. Marriage and birth announcements, obituaries and the such. There were handwritten notes and affirmations jotted in the margins, literary quotes circled and underlined. Bits of a daily diary were melded in. “No rain for forty days now, there is an unbalance. Tomorrow the sisters shall convene to discuss.” On a page with colorful illustrations of herbs, “Too much thyme and not enough rosemary, adjust by eighths.” The same looping scrawl filled every one of the pages, and each diary entry noted the year, month, and phase of the moon rather than using a standard date. His grandmother’s eccentricity reminded her a bit of her Aunt Scarlet. She continued to flip through the book, being extra careful not to crush the delicate petals of a flower that had been pressed between two of the pages.
She looked up at Brent in confusion. How was this supposed to help her? “I don’t understand.”
Brent looked at her squarely, his expression serious. “My grandmother was a witch, Alethea. And I’m pretty sure you are, too.”
Alethea laughed hard at that, shutting the book and picking it up off her lap. “Right, a witch. Very funny. Look, I don’t need you to mock me.” How dare he make fun of her at a time like this? There had to be some rational explanation for what was going on.
“I’m not mocking you.” Brent was dead serious, his eyes sad. Was he looking at her with pity? “Gran was a witch and that was her grimoire. I think it might help you. I don’t mean any offense but you don’t seem to have…um, quite the hang of your powers, let’s say.” She could tell he was doing his best not to offend her, he was actually serious!
“What do you mean your grandmother was a witch?”
“Just that. Gran had a lot of special abilities and she made a big difference in the community and, of course, in our family. She was always using her powers to help one person or another. Visiting her was my favorite part of summer vacation.”
“So just your grandmother then? Being a witch doesn’t get passed down?” Alethea laid on her sarcasm thickly. Why was she even humoring him with this conversation?
“Oh, it does, but it’s a recessive trait.” His expression was dead serious. She searched Brent’s face for any sign that he was making this up. Did he actually believe what he was saying? Could he hear how absurd it sounded?
“My Gran was a witch but her daughter, my mom, is just a regular old human like me.”
“And you think I’m a witch, too? Wait, let me guess. Dandelion is my familiar, right? Why did we bother taking your truck when I could’ve just flown us here on my broom? Forgive me if all this sounds a little too ridiculous to believe.”
He picked up her hands in his and they locked eyes. “I know it sounds unbelievable and I know you’re scared, but tell me honestly, and I mean really honestly, that you don’t know, deep down, what you really are.” His eyes looked into hers longingly and he gave her hands a supportive squeeze. “It’s okay, Alethea. You can face the truth.”
She felt a tear slide down her cheek. She wanted to laugh in his face and tell him how stupid he sounded. She wanted to hate this man for all the ridiculous words that just came out of his mouth, but she couldn’t. Because deep down, she knew he was right. Ever since she had seen herself glow, that tiny nugget of truth had been trying to burrow its way out of the depths of her psyche. And ever since she had caught up on her sleep, that knowing sensation, as much as she had been trying to ignore it, had been growing stronger. She was a witch!
“What I don’t understand is how you made it this long without knowing you had powers. Why did no one in your family tell you about your lineage? I can’t say for certain of course but your aunt always kinda gave off witchy vibes. I think that’s one of the reasons we hit it off so well, she reminded me of my Nan.”
Alethea rubbed her temples. Why hadn’t anyone told her? Was Aunt Scarlet really a witch? Had her mother been one, too? Could men be witches? The questions just kept streaming through her head and she felt dizzy.
Brent could see that she was feeling overwhelmed and his brow knit together with concern. “I’m sure this must be a lot to process. Why don’t we get you back home?” His touch on her back was gentle, and reassuring. He looked torn, like he wanted to say more but he stayed silent. She just nodded in agreement, too dazed to know what to say. She was a witch. And of all people in this world, Brent Cornerstone was the one who had told her.
Sir Zachery stayed hiddenunder the credenza, his short gray fur acting as good camouflage. Unsurprisingly, his hunch had been right. Sniffing Brent’s work boots each evening told Sir Zachery that his human had been spending his days at Scarlet’s old mansion. And Brent’s goofy, love-sick demeanor of late also suggested that he had been spending time with a woman who was definitely not Scarlet. His human had actually sung out loud, mostly off key of course, and danced around the kitchen while making dinner the other night! And the way that he hunched over the stained-glass window in his workshop each evening, the scent of concentration and care pungent in the air to Sir Zachery’s delicate nose, spoke of a motivation far beyond enjoying a hobby.
His human had clearly fallen for someone hard, and now this someone was sitting in their living room. Sir Zachery felt a sense of contentment. Like all cats, he was an excellent judge of character. And despite her acting a bit thick-headed at the moment, he could tell this woman had a good heart. Plus he liked her spunkiness. While he was happy that his human was finally showing some interest in someone, it should be the least of his concerns at the moment, he reminded himself. The real bombshell had been dropped and Sir Zachary couldn’t wait to tell the others. So much of a feline’s work was spent guessing and waiting, but he finally had actual confirmation now and of course his suspicions had been correct. Dandelion had returned!