Chapter 22
Alethea concentrated on the pages of Brent’s grandmother’s old grimoire. Oddly, the faded yellowing seemed to have diminished some, the book looking slightly younger than its true age. She felt relatively calm today, especially given the circumstances, and was determined to get to the bottom of what was going on. Flying to Florida where her aunt couldn’t hide from her was an option, but Alethea didn’t want to plunk down that much of what was left of her precious, and rapidly dwindling, savings account. She wasn’t willing to rule it out completely, though, and her aunt just might get a surprise guest on her doorstep if Alethea got desperate enough.
As much as she tried to concentrate, her thoughts kept straying back to Brent. How quickly he had come over when she told him she needed his help, the furrow of his brow showing his concern when she had met him on the front porch, his smile at seeing her. Was she making more out of it than she should? Imagining there was meaning behind these things because she wanted to believe he reciprocated her romantic feelings?
Thinking some fresh air might help, she took the grimoire and a cup of Brent’s Nan’s tea with her as she went out back. She walked over to the herb garden and set the book down on the weathered white plaster bench and then began sipping the tea as she walked the narrow pathways made from the fine white gravel Brent had meticulously arranged. It made sense to her that he was skilled at stained glass, his work was neat and tidy while still being creative and pleasing to the eye.
An idea came to her and she kicked off her flip flops, feeling the warmth of the earth beneath her. The gravel was made of small round stones and didn’t feel unpleasant on her bare feet. She stepped slowly around the circle, taking more sips of her tea as she went, clearing her mind as she concentrated on the feel of the smooth stones beneath her feet. She felt the nature around her, absorbing it with her senses. The warm breeze tickling her bare arms carried the smell of the different herbs and flowering trees. There was honeysuckle somewhere nearby. A couple carpenter bees danced together before settling on the oregano that had bolted and gone to flower, the heavy insects bending the sprigs of white flowers beneath their weight. Her heart rate began to slow, her thoughts sharpening. She liked to be outside, to have her body moving as she worked through difficult problems, and this problem of hers might just be the most difficult yet. She needed answers fast, before she accidentally caused catastrophic harm to herself or someone else.
She drank more of the tea, continuing her methodical pacing around the concentric circles of the herb garden. The grimoire caught her eye from the bench where it lay. Alethea could sense there was important information in those hidden words, she just needed to figure out a way to access them. Walking over, she sat down on the bench and picked up the book, placing the hefty tome on her lap. She examined the cover closely and flipped the book over in her hands, running her fingers along the spine. Nothing unusual that she could see. As she leafed through the pages, she let her focus drift and bits of words started to form, dancing around on the page but dispersing as soon as she tried to read their contents, just as they had before.
What’s the secret? She thought about Brent’s grandmother. Of course she’d have the need to hide her writings involving witchcraft, that much seemed obvious. Thinking about how she could see the fragments of words though, dancing around the page, it dawned on her that she must have wanted another witch to know that the hidden words existed. Otherwise, wouldn’t her writing have been completely hidden altogether? If that was true, then there must be a way for Alethea to unlock the hidden words. She contemplated this for a long moment and then placed her hands palms down on the book while she closed her eyes.
“Um, hello.” She felt silly but continued on. “I’d like your permission to read the notes in this book, if you’d like to share them. I’m scared and confused and could really use a little help right about now.” What was she doing, talking out loud like this to a book? In reality, she wasn’t even certain to whom she was talking. To the book? Brent”s grandmother? The Universe? Her heart was sincere, though, and she sent her plea out into the ether regardless.
She opened her eyes and opened the grimoire to a random page. It had notes about a brief heatwave, a recipe for a homemade sunburn relief salve using aloe, and instructions for propagating rosemary. Amongst the doodles in the margins, a small drawing of a calla lily caught her eye. It reminded her of the gilded one she had seen on the spine of the book in the walnut secretary. She ran the tip of her pointer finger over the flower, feeling how the nib of the pen had indented the paper when it had been drawn. Letting her vision relax, she unfocused her eyes and almost jumped when words rapidly began to fly around the page, coalescing into the same looping cursive she recognized from the rest of the book, Brent’s grandmother”s handwriting. The words were clear and vivid now, holding perfectly still.
This message is for the Traveler, the one who must break the suffocating bonds or be consumed by darkness. One day you will come for what is forbidden, though I know not when or under what visage. All depends on you. May what I have done be enough.
An ye harm none, do what ye will.
Underneath the inscription,was what Alethea assumed to be some kind of spell, written out in exceptional detail and small illustrations. It gave very specific directions, listing every ingredient and object needed and how to perform the ritual. It even specified to cast the spell under the full Sturgeon moon at midnight. Apparently, witchcraft was rigidly specific. She flipped forward a few pages and tried again. Nothing that she could see on this one. Suddenly, the pages began turning of their own accord, until once again the page with the message for the Traveler lay open in front of her. Goosebumps ran up her arms. Alethea tried different sections of the book but each time the pages turned back to the same message. “Okay, okay! You want me to see this one, I got it.”
The sound of the kitchen door swinging open caught her attention, and she turned to see Brett crossing the lawn. “Just in case you could use a pick me up!” He motioned to the small pink cardboard box with the Corner Cafe logo stamped on the top that he was carrying. “Joannie will be changing over her seasonal flavors to fall pretty soon, so I thought you might like a last taste of summer, so to speak.”
She most certainly would. She smiled and thanked him, taking the box from his hands and opening it to find lemon squares and slices of blueberry coffee cake. Taking a big bite of a lemon bar, she savored the tangy citrus. It really was like liquid sunshine on her tongue. She wondered what Joannie had in store for her fall menu, feeling a little sad that she’d no longer be here to find out. “I’m really going to miss Joannie’s baking.”
“How long until you leave?”
“Two weeks from today. Really, it’s just the stained-glass window and finishing up the trim in the upstairs rooms that are left. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m actually going to miss doing reno work.” She had been shocked by this revelation herself, but she had come to genuinely enjoy the physicality of the renovation.
He smiled at that. “I think I can relate.”
She laughed in return. “I really can see why you love your work.” And she could. It felt good seeing all of her efforts and exertion turn into something tangible and lasting to admire.
“I find that there’s something very satisfying about fixing things. It’s amazing when a little time and effort can make something look like new again. The three of you have done a pretty outstanding job, by the way. You should be proud of yourselves, your work really does look professional.”
A smile brightened her face. The compliment felt especially gratifying coming from someone who did this work for a living. “Did you want to sit down?” She made room for him on the garden bench, and he took a seat close enough for her to smell his intoxicating scent, pine and… “Root beer?” Ugh, she hadn’t meant to say it aloud.
He looked at her in surprise and raised his eyebrows. “What about it?”
“Sorry.” She could feel herself start to blush. Why did things always just pop out of her mouth around Brent? Maybe there was some kind of spell she could cast on herself that would make her stop acting like such a spaz. “Um, you smell like root beer. It just kinda came out.”
He shook his head and chuckled. “Joannie was testing out some root beer pastry cream when I was there earlier and she had me do a little taste-testing.” His boyish grin said it had been a task that he probably had volunteered for. “So now I stink like sarsaparilla, huh?”
“No, you don’t stink. I just have an overly sensitive sense of smell.”
He looked thoughtful. “That makes sense. My nan had a keen nose too. Speaking of witch stuff…” He motioned to the grimoire open on her lap. “Any luck?”
“I’m not exactly sure.” She held up the book for him to see, still open to the page with the hidden spell. “If you relax your gaze when you look at this page, do you see writing start to form?”
They were silent as he looked at the book for a full minute before finally shaking his head. “Nope. And I’m pretty good at those magic eye pictures at the fair.” She thought about the annual county fair and imagined what it would be like to go with Brent, together, hand in hand, if she stayed. Quickly dismissing the thought for what it was, utter foolishness, her focus shifted back to the book. She read the inscription and spell out loud to him in their entirety, stumbling over a few of the more tricky and unfamiliar words.
“Are all the pages like this? With a hidden layer of writing?”
She thought about how to answer his question for a moment before answering. “I think so but it’s like it’s only letting me see this one page. It’s a little hard to explain.” She still felt uneasy talking about these things as if they were perfectly normal. It was going to be difficult for her to decondition her life-long held belief that magic wasn’t real.
“Interesting.” Brent grew quiet and stared down at the book, although Alethea guessed he was really looking past the book, a million miles away lost in thought. After a few moments, he turned to her, his expression serious. “It sounds like a spell to break a curse, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know, suffocating bonds could mean anything. It could be a spell to get out of a loveless marriage for all we know. Anyway, I most certainly wouldn’t call myself a traveler, I rarely even leave a twenty block radius in the heart of the city! So whatever it is, I doubt it will help me. ”
“Well, you traveled here didn’t you?”
“I’m not sure driving back to your hometown to take care of some outstanding business really counts as traveling.”
Brent nodded thoughtfully but didn’t seem that convinced. “I took another look through Nan’s things last night, to see if there might be something helpful but I didn’t find anything. It looks like all normal stuff, though I’m not exactly sure what to look for, to be honest. Judging from what you found in her grimoire, Nan was probably pretty good at hiding her magic in plain sight.”
Alethea’s thoughts flitted back to the trunk in the attic. Had her ancestors done the same? The locksmith she found would be there in a few days, and she prayed the trunk would have some answers inside. Dandelion padded across the lawn, the soft green grass covering almost half of her petite form as she made a bee line over to the bench where they sat. Her traitorous feline wasted no time and jumped up on Brent’s lap, asking for scratches under her chin. She watched her cat’s display of affection and narrowed her eyes. Shameless. “Well, guess I should head back inside. I need to start working on the write up of the house for the Airbnb site.”
“It’s a shame you have to leave so soon.” His eyes found hers, refusing to let her gaze go.
Alethea searched for something to say in response. She couldn’t very well say what she was actually feeling, that the thought of leaving Brent was killing her, because it was utterly ridiculous. She barely knew the man! Why she had let this silly little crush go on this long was beyond her. “Yeah, there are lots of things I’m going to miss.”
His eyes were smoldering now. “What will you miss?” His voice was barely audible, the words just managing to escape from his lips.
It was a good thing they were sitting down because her knees felt weak. There was no way to tell him the truth, that she was going to miss him most of all. So instead, she just shrugged. Had she imagined it, or was that a look of hurt that flashed across his face? “I’m going to miss pastries from the Corner Cafe for one and watching Dandelion tear up and down the huge staircase when she gets the zoomies. The smell of the cool morning air coming down from the mountains and watching the butterflies hop from flower to flower.” She looked over at the herb garden and smiled. “I’m going to miss soaking in a clawfoot tub and not hearing a car horn for weeks on end. Sunsets that stretch on for miles and peaches so ripe they drip down your chin.”
“That’s a lot of things to miss.” He looked at her expectantly, his gaze never leaving hers.
“I guess, but the city is definitely calling me back.”
He looked skeptical but said nothing in response.
“What?” Alethea asked defensively.
“Nothing.” He was looking down at Dandelion now, petting her behind the ears.
“Come on, what?”
“It’s just that for such a strongly self-proclaimed city-girl, you sure do love a lot about the country.”
She wrinkled her nose at him and made a face.
“Look,” he said laughing, “I’m not saying that’s a bad thing! What’s so wrong about liking small town life?”
“Everything!” She folded her arms over her chest. “You don’t understand, you didn’t grow up here.”
“You’re right, I didn’t, but I always wished that I had. I hated going back to the suburbs at the end of summer and having to leave Nan’s. I used to beg my parents to let us move here.” He laughed, recalling how tenacious he had been as a young boy. “That’s why as soon as I could afford a down payment, I came here to find a home.”
“Then you of all people should understand what it”s like to be drawn to a place.”
His silence said he understood.