Chapter Twenty-Three Soraya
Chapter Twenty-Three
Soraya
To know your body is to know your magic.
—Rules for Witches
Soraya rushed downstairs to the apothecary to see if she’d left her purse there. She’d put in for a grocery order and was going to need her ID to get the wine and hadn’t been able to find it anywhere.
Thankfully, Aggie was still inside with one light on, standing at the counter arranging herbs.
Soraya went to the door and knocked. The lack of surprise on Aggie’s face when she looked up and saw Soraya could have easily been attributed to the fact that Soraya’s purse was in there.
But it felt like something more.
Aggie left her post at the counter and crossed the expanse of the shop to open the door.
“Oh, thank you, Aggie,” she said.
“You’re very welcome.”
“I left my purse, I think. I walked right out with my phone and keys in my pocket and didn’t realize I didn’t have my bag. I’ll just check the back.”
“Of course. Are you in a hurry?”
Soraya opened her phone app and looked at the grocery delivery. The shopper was still only halfway through her order.
“No.” She poked her head in the back, saw her purse on the peg and grabbed it, and went back out to the front of the shop.
It was so cozy in here to her now. All the little shelves with their crystals, tinctures, and tonics. The teas and herbs, tarot cards, and beautiful objects meant for altars or just to be used as talismans.
How strange that she’d felt so differently about it only a couple weeks ago.
“I was wondering if you had a moment to talk about tea.”
“Oh?”
“I think you’re the perfect person to handle tea blends when I’m not in the shop.”
“Oh, but I . . .” She knew that for Aggie, tea was a source of magic. The blends weren’t just about how they tasted, but what they could do.
Madison wasn’t even allowed to make these kinds of teas. Aggie did blends and also made single cups for customers.
“Soraya, you’re my kitchen witch. You’re the one who can make these magical.”
A witch.
She’d been doing a lot of research on this, and she knew there were many people who considered themselves adherents to their faith while being witches. Witches didn’t have to have gods associated with the craft. They could worship whatever god they wanted, or none at all.
It made her feel more comfortable with the label. Aggie, of course, only meant it with the utmost kindness.
“These are all the new teas we have, and here are some of the activators for different spells. We have teas for positivity: chamomile, honey, and lemon. Healing tea: black tea, vanilla, cinnamon, and honey.” She waved her hand over three other bins.
“There are rosemary and rosehips, and elderberries are other good additives. Now, the most common teas we get asked for here promote women’s sexuality. ”
If it had been Nora, Soraya might have thought Aggie was testing her. Trying to see if she could get a reaction out of her.
“Let’s practice making a cup.”
“Are you going to drink it?” Soraya asked.
Aggie looked at her, her eyes sparkling as she pushed the lever on her electric kettle and started the water warming. “Do you think that’s amusing because I’m a crone?”
“Not at all!” Soraya said, feeling instantly awful. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just didn’t realize you were . . . or that you had . . .”
“It isn’t for me. I don’t need it.” Aggie smiled mischievously. “You, on the other hand . . .”
It was like Aggie could read her mind. Like she knew about the date and all of Soraya’s associated worries and fears and desires.
“I’m tired of men,” she lied.
“Who said it had to be men?”
“I’m not into women.” She frowned. “I don’t think.”
“You know you can just have sexuality all on your own. It doesn’t have to be for anyone else. You can feel beautiful, you can feel desire, and you can let yourself express that desire just for you, just with you.”
Soraya blinked. “Well, isn’t that . . . I know it’s not evil or anything, I do know that. But it just seems like if you don’t have someone with you . . .”
“It’s not wrong to feel good.”
That was revelatory in a way she felt it shouldn’t be at thirty-five.
“Follow my instructions.” Aggie took her electric kettle and poured steaming water into a teapot. “Rose, hibiscus, and calendula.”
Soraya took a pinch of each and added them to the pot.
“Red clover, elderberries, cinnamon, lemon balm.”
Soraya added those slowly to the steaming water.
“Then add black tea leaves and a bit of dried apple.”
She did, and put the lid on the teapot.
“Now we let it steep.” Aggie looked at her.
“It’s rare I’ve ever met a woman so afraid of her own power, her own body, her own feelings.
Soraya, what you want matters. God did not create you with all this love, creativity, and magic to hide it forever.
Tell me, is the shame you feel from a divine source or from the people around you? ”
Soraya glanced down. “It’s from the people around me.”
“They needed you to feel fear and shame, to be sure you would ignore the beating of your own heart, the burning of your own conscience. You were taught to ignore it, and told you had to fall in line. Isn’t it written in your Bible that God would often raise someone up to speak against the ones in power?
Didn’t Deborah speak prophecy and lead her people to victory?
Wasn’t it up to Jael to kill her enemy? Women must stand in their power, in their conviction, just as much as any man.
So should you, as much as any leader in any church.
Those around you who are styled as leaders can be wrong. ”
Soraya took a breath. “I am afraid. I was always told that I needed a leader. That women were the weaker ones. I went from my father being my leader to my husband, and I’ve never been my own.”
“You are your own already. You just need to embrace it.”
Aggie picked up the teapot and put a tea strainer on top of a small purple teacup with a crooked gold handle, and poured the tea into it, all the leaves and petals collecting in the strainer. She took it off the top of the cup and pushed it toward Soraya.
She lifted it and took a sip, the spiced, floral notes a shock to her senses.
She let it wash over her as she sat and drank it in silence. Did she feel more beautiful, or did she just want to? Did she feel more confident, or was that just wishful thinking?
“Magic is all about taking the energy around you, the deep desires of your soul, the beautiful, sparkling crackle of desire, and making it into something you can touch, something you can hold,” Aggie said, like she could read Soraya’s thoughts.
“It’s about taking hold of feelings and transforming them into something that serves you. ”
Soraya’s phone buzzed, letting her know her delivery was on the way. She took pleasure in her last few sips of tea, then she went to rinse the cup.
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Aggie said. “I’ll clean up.”
“Thanks, Aggie. For everything.”
She carried her purse out to the curb and waited until the delivery arrived. She showed her ID, then took the wine bottle and other bags, and as best she could, she walked to the stairwell door and managed to wrench it open.
In her infinite freedom, she’d gotten a whole bunch of things David and the boys would never eat, along with a ten-pound bag of flour because she had burned through what she had baking for the apothecary.
An enjoyable aspect of the job, as was learning how to make drinks, along with her newfound permission to do the special tea blends.
She was trying to embrace and enjoy the novelty of living by herself too. It was different. It was something she had never experienced, and the ability to please herself was fun, even if she would have traded it immediately to have the boys back.
Not that she had a choice. All her texts went unanswered, as did her phone calls.
Even after everything. But then, knowing David like she did, he was doubling down. How could he admit he had done wrong after all that? After the way he had looked her in the eye and tried to blame her?
Bracing her arm against the apartment door as she dug in her purse for her keys, she lost her grip on the bag and grabbed the top of it quickly, growling when it tore and the bag of flour and her bell peppers, cilantro, and noodles all went crashing to the floor.
The door across the hall opened, and it was like a Pavlovian response. Her whole body took notice.
She was starving, then, but not for a sweet treat.
She turned, pushing her hair out of her face as she tried to smile. “Just a minor grocery accident.”
They had a date. But she hadn’t talked to him since, really. They had made a plan to have dinner in three days, and she didn’t know if it was weird to see her date before the date, or if that was only seeing the bride before a wedding.
She felt warm suddenly. Flushed.
Aroused.
The tea.
No. There was no way that tea was this powerful. Or maybe it was, when combined with Declan’s raw masculine beauty.
“Let me help you,” he said.
“Oh, thank you.”
He bent down, and the scent of his cologne made her stomach swoop. He smelled amazing. Unfamiliar. It was like having a crush. Something she could barely remember because she’d been with David for so long, and their relationship hadn’t felt like that since before they were married.
He scooped up all the items and stood. He was close. So close. She curled her fingers into fists, dug her nails into her palms. “I’ll just . . . unlock the door.”
He was going to come into her house. Before the date. Because he was holding her groceries, and not for any other reason. It wasn’t for any other reason.
She swallowed hard. Then she fitted her key into the lock and turned it, pushing the door open. “Come in,” she said.
He did, walking through the living room and into the kitchen, putting the groceries on the table.
“That was my fault. I trusted the paper bag too much.”