Chapter 13 Green Hands #2
“That’ll do nicely,” Laurel said, pulling Sage to her feet and walking her over to the front desk.
Laurel leaned against the side, while Robin took the chair and Casimir jumped to take a seat on the countertop.
Sage propped her elbows up and leaned forwards to rest her chin, still shooting Casimir a particularly furious look.
Asking for help was strictly not in her repertoire.
It was bad enough that she’d had to share all of this with him; she felt mortifyingly exposed now that they all knew she was struggling.
“And I’m handling said straits myself,” she insisted.
“Not very well. Your house is crumbling, there’s an enormous man now living in your garden and…”
“A man?” Laurel squealed.
“Not the sort you want to hear about,” Sage said with an eye-roll. “It’s a…” She sighed in defeat. “It’s a magic thing.”
Laurel and Robin both turned promptly to Casimir for better answers.
“I’ll take this one, shall I? Your darling sister has inadvertently summoned dormant magic that’s been lying low within this town for donkey’s years.
It seems the old magic has joined forces with her own, which—finally indulged—appears to be having the time of its life dismantling her meticulously sensible, terribly serious existence,” Casimir said.
He was trying his best to keep the laughter under wraps as he peered fondly at the top of her head but was not doing a very good job.
Sage heard Robin blow out a sharp breath and lean back in the squeaky chair while Laurel flew upright, clapping her hands at an excited super-speed.
“A spell? A real one? You’ve finally decided to embrace your powers?” She threw her arms around Sage over the desk and squeezed her mercilessly. “Oh, Sage, I’m so delighted! It’s everything you deserve. I couldn’t be happier for you.”
Sage stared deadpan at Casimir through the barrage of a hug and mouthed the phrase “dead meat.” “It’s not my magic, Laur. It’s someone else’s—Lilara Mournfell’s. I had no say in the matter.”
“Oh, well, that’s even more exciting.” Laurel held her sister’s shoulders at arm’s length. “How kind of her to share it with you!”
Sage paused as a couple of tourists came through the front door. Casimir leapt down from the desk and wandered over to welcome them. “Kind?” she asked Laurel, lowering her voice.
“Well, it sounds like she’s trying to bring some light into your life.” Laurel’s face lit up. “It’s like the most generous present ever! Aren’t you pleased?”
“Laur’s right: it sounds like a benevolent kind of spell. I wouldn’t panic if I were you. I’d even be pretty chuffed. It’s like you’ve been gifted double the powers. Tell us what’s happened so far,” Robin said.
“My house is made of gingerbread. Some children grew fairy wings. There’s a beanstalk in the garden…” Sage told them in a hushed voice, listing each development on her fingers. When she said it out loud, it didn’t exactly sound menacing.
Laurel snorted. “Straight out of a fairy tale. It seems like Lilara’s sensed something in you that needs to change and is allowing you—trusting you—to borrow her magic for a while and just…test the waters, have fun.”
Sage faltered. “Fun?”
“Yeah! I mean, who hasn’t wished they could live in a magical story, at least for a little while. Was she a fairy godmother or something?” Laurel gasped. “Do they really exist?”
“Yes, of course they do, but that’s for another day. You think this is some kind of…blessing? A gift?”
“Sage,” Laurel said, entirely straight-faced and sincere.
“It’s that lovely moment that happens in all the best films, where the serious one has to get in touch with their inner child.
It’s literally my dream come true. You’ve been handed a big bundle of magic to play with, wrapped up in a shiny ribbon. You’re so lucky.”
Sage scoffed.
“No, I agree,” Robin said, nodding. “She might be on to something here, Sage. I can see the logic, which doesn’t happen all that often from Laurel’s mouth.
And in the run-up to Halloween? It could be a witchy gift, right?
Written in your stars or your fate or whatever sorts of rules that witches have to adhere to. ”
Sage contemplated the possibility, unconvinced. Had she had her wires crossed this entire time? She had been so sure of the evidence she’d gathered.
Casimir rejoined the circle. “Lovely couple. They’re very content to wander. I said to find us once they’ve had a look around. What have I missed?”
“We’ve decided it’s a good thing!” Laurel said emphatically. “I can’t believe you’d even think otherwise.”
Sage exchanged a doubtful look with Casimir, but as Laurel explained their reasoning, his expression changed to a thoughtful one too, the new idea swilling around in his mind while he assessed it from all angles. She could tell that he liked it.
“See, I knew they’d have some words of wisdom,” Casimir said to Sage. “Could it be that we’ve been coming at this from the wrong angle? We’ve always thought of Lilara as being anti-magic…”
“Will you shush?” she said, elbowing him as she glanced over at the visitors.
“…that her banishment was the right decision for her.” Casimir went on anyway, excited by blossoming ideas. “But what if she regretted it, Specs? What if she didn’t want you to make the same mistake?”
Laurel squeezed her sister’s hand. “What if this spell of hers is to show you all of its possibilities and wonder? What if it’s to prove that magic really is for you? To stop you making the terrible sacrifice that she once did?”
Sage shook her head. It went against everything she had ever believed in. Everything she’d ever admired and respected Lilara so deeply for. “There’s no way. All of this…It’s not a celebration; it’s risky. It’s dangerous. She knew that.”
“Joy isn’t dangerous, Sage,” Laurel said, tucking her sister’s hair behind her ear. “I’m sad that you think that way.”
“I didn’t say anything about joy,” Sage said with another eye-roll.
“But that’s what magic is,” Laurel said with an encouraging nod and a delighted glint in her eye.
“Everything that’s happened so far, everything it’s showing you.
I’m always telling you, whimsy is what matters in life, when it comes down to it.
Whimsy isn’t weakness or weirdness. It’s joy. Plain and simple.”
Sage frowned. As much as she trusted her own instincts, she couldn’t ignore the people closest to her. All three of them were intelligent, usually reasonable and she always respected their opinions. She turned to Robin, who was never one to get carried away with giddiness. “What do you think?”
He looked thoughtful before the slightest of side smiles started to creep in, crinkling his blue eyes.
“I think maybe it’s time to try another way, Sage.
It goes without saying that you won’t take any notice of us, but I know you will take notice of Lilara Mournfell,” he said, giving jazz hands to her name.
“You always have done. This must be what she wants for you, right? To celebrate your magic in a way that she never could.”
“So, you’re genuinely telling me I should…embrace all of this chaos?” Sage tried her best to keep her voice steady and not sound entirely horrified.
“Like snuggling a feral kitten,” Casimir said.
“But I…I can’t. I don’t think I even know how to do that,” she said. The last part came out a little more quietly. Her cheeks flared at the confession.
“We’ll help you!” Laurel said, growing in excitement. “You never let us help you with anything. But this? Chaos and fun, I can absolutely do,” she added with a grin.
Robin leaned closer across the circle. “She’s right, Sage.
It’s about time you let us do something useful.
Since we lost Mum and Dad, I don’t think you’ve lived a single day of relaxed, simple happiness—never just had a laugh.
You’ve spent more than long enough beating yourself up for something that was not your fault.
Like I said, maybe this is your sign that now’s the time to try another way,” he said with an encouraging nod and a pat on her arm.
Sage was utterly mortified to feel a few rogue tears pool on her lower lashes.
They made it sound so easy, but how could she ever truly let go?
It was a quiet but bright thought that she could live her life another way, the idea shimmering like the first glint of sunlight on untouched snow.
The possibility frightened her: that she should permit magic to play without hesitation, let her fingers move without flinching, exist without constant worry. That she should trust magic.
She scowled even more determinedly than before to make the tears go away.
“Oh, fine!” She crossed her arms to indicate that the discussion was over. “I suppose you should just start to call me…Silly Sage or something equally ghastly.”
Casimir grimaced. “We’ll workshop it.”