Chapter 23 Of Bargains and Wicked Witches #2
He wiped at his nose, but when he lifted his eyes to hers, the smile that broke on his face had her seeing stars.
All his eye wrinkles, laugh lines, and dimples are on full display.
He stood and gestured for her to take his seat, even though there were dozens of other chairs.
With her heart firmly lodged in the black hole eviscerating her, she made her way over.
“Lucinda, this is Cochran, and I’ve just hired him to be Calcifer’s caretaker while we are away,” Ira said, winking at the boy.
So that was the root of it all. The organ in her chest swelled and thumped with such vigor that it was a wonder it didn’t beat right out of her chest.
“I’m really good with animals, Miss,” the boy said.
He sat a little straighter and lifted his chin, daring Luci to find fault with him. It reminded her of when Brielle got a terrible idea in her mind and refused to back down. Warmth settled over her that wasn’t related to the fire cackling behind her.
“He’s a good cat. If you make sure to feed him exactly when he demands it, he will be your best friend.” Luci said.
There was a thickness to her voice that probably came from just waking up. Probably.
Cochran nodded.
“Yes, ma'am, Mr. Liam asked my pa if he could spare me, and my pa said if Mr. Liam wants to throw all his money away on a cat, that it suits him just fine, and Ms. Agnes said I can take care of Calcifer here and that I can have a home-cooked meal after I finish with my job!”
There was a maturity to him that didn’t belong in a boy less than ten years old.
It came with heartbreak and poverty. There in the back of his gray eyes was a little boy who missed his mother and needed a chance to prove himself.
It was the same spark that Luci used to see in the mirror when she first came to Blythe. A chance.
Clearing her throat, Luci smiled.
“I think you will be perfect for the job. Calcifer is lucky to have you,” she said.
They were a variation of the words Mrs. Blakesley spoke to Luci when she realized there was no keeping Brielle and Luci apart.
Agnes set a plate of fresh eggs, bacon, and bread in front of her, and she was more grateful than she could have ever said.
The emotions drowning her were always quieter when there was food in front of her.
The first bite of fluffy, flavorful eggs was like the first wall being erected over her heart.
Ira finally took the seat next to her, right in front of Calcifer, and ran his hand on Cal’s back. In answer, he let loose a loud sneeze.
“Where is my bag?” Luci asked.
Ira shrugged. “Packed onto the horses. I thought you would want to eat and head out immediately.”
He was correct, and that threatened her freshly erected fortress.
“You need the tonic,” she said.
He waved a hand. “I’ll be fine.”
He was, in fact, not fine. By the time she finished her food, which was at a record-breaking time, his eyes were half swollen shut.
As soon as they reached the horses, Luci withdrew a vial and handed it to him.
He took it with a bow of his head, and by the time they were on the outskirts of the city, his violent sneezing diminished to nothing.
“If you are going to insist on touching animals, you should take the tonic before you do,” she chastised.
He shrugged. “But then I wouldn’t get to see how much you care.”
Luci rolled her eyes. “I just don’t want to have to listen to you sneeze for the entire day.”
Ira clicked his tongue. “So stubborn.”
There was nothing to say back because, unfortunately, he was right.
She did care, and she was stubborn. The problem with those two facts was that there was nothing to be done about them.
She couldn’t make herself care less, and her stubbornness was the only thing keeping her afloat.
If she relented even an inch, she would drown.
The next few hours were a mixture of Ira telling embarrassing childhood stories, humming songs, and wondering how Cochran and Calcifer were getting on.
Luci didn’t have to say much, but truthfully, that was what she liked about it.
Being around people who weren’t Brielle was often exhausting.
She was constantly wondering what the right thing to say was and if she was embarrassing herself.
Always trying too hard to the point that when it was over, she was exhausted.
Ira didn’t make her feel like that. He didn’t judge her when she didn’t say the right thing, and he carried the conversation when she was buried in her mind.
Four hours drifted by without notice except for the muscle aches in her thighs from riding.
Every now and then, she’d think she couldn’t keep going, Ira would hand her a snack, and she’d find herself settling back in, and another hour would pass.
Which was why, when a field of red came into view, Luci found herself bringing Cinnamon to a halt, and before she could think better of it, she dismounted and knelt before the first row of poppies.
Running her hand over the first, it was like silk mixed with fresh dew despite how high the sun was in the sky.
Before them, the field stretched for miles, settling at the base of the Blue Mountain.
It was right out of a storybook. Even though Luci knew the stories were often wrapped around anomalies in the real world to give them a hint of truth, it was still unsettling.
“Let’s hope there isn’t a wicked witch out to curse us,” Ira said, coming to kneel beside her.
“Just a story,” Luci whispered.
Ira shook his head and plucked one of the poppies from the ground and tucked it behind her ear, brushing stray strands of black away. Luci forgot how to breathe as his fingers brushed absently against her skin like it was a small thing. Like it didn’t demolish every wall she’d ever crafted.
When he was satisfied, he pulled his hand away, but his eyes remained locked on hers.
“So stubborn,” he whispered.
She was. The field in front of her was exactly the same as the one she’d seen in the room of mirrors.
A vision she’d experienced and couldn’t deny.
Yet she couldn’t make herself admit that maybe this was all real.
Maybe magic existed, and maybe the stories lived amongst grains of truth.
If she admitted it, then the rest she was running from would be too hard to ignore, and she wasn’t willing to do that.
So instead of admitting anything, Lucinda stood and mounted Cinnamon, groaning at the ache in her legs.
She’d never ridden this long, and it was taking its toll.
She didn’t take out the flower even though she knew she should have.
It felt right there, and with the unease that was crawling over her skin, she wasn’t willing to sacrifice that.
The horses gently tracked over the poppies, and a lingering guilt over each crushed one followed their tracks. However, a field of poppies was not more important than Brielle.
It was an hour into the endless poppies when Ira finally spoke.
“Why are you so afraid the stories are real?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she lied.
The least she could do was not pretend she wasn’t afraid.
It would have been insulting to his intelligence.
The truth was that Luci’s swirling stomach and racing brain felt an awful lot like standing on the edge of the cliff, preparing to leap.
It hadn’t been a thought she nurtured until she touched the first poppy.
Now she was forced to consider that everything she’d seen in her vision was real.
On the one hand, there was a new sense of hope in her chest that this insane plan would work to save Brielle. On the other hand, well, there was too much on the other hand.
Flashes of Ira’s smiling face in the cave, of him holding out his hand, the words he spoke ringing in her ears.
You are everything.
She must have been seeing through Brielle’s eyes. There was genuine love and adoration in the words and his eyes that said everything words couldn’t. A good friend would have been happy for her best friend, but there was a crack in Luci that made her question who she was.
“Would it be so terrible if they were real?” he asked.
“Yes,” Luci said without hesitation. “A world with magic is an unknown, and terrible things happened to the people in those stories.”
“But it always ends up better in the end,” he said.
“All's well that ends well, even if the suffering is great,” she mused.
“Magic has the power to change lives,” he countered.
“You have the power to change lives. Look at what you did with Cochran. Agnes told me what you are paying him. What you did for him is better than magic.”
Ira’s lips thinned, and a muscle in his neck tightened, tension hiding amidst his normally carefree demeanor.
“That’s one person. I can’t find cats to pawn off on every suffering soul,” he said.
The air was like a light perfume, the home of the poppies, everything it should have been.
Agnes said that once upon a time, people came from all over for a chance to see them and even take a nap in them.
What once was truth slowly faded beneath doubt and speculation.
Each red petal is only a petal instead of an instrument to deter reluctant heroes into a long sleep.
“Maybe instead of focusing on the past, the answer is to adapt to the present. To leave behind a future that’s better than what you were born into,” she said.
Among the sweetness was a hint of cinnamon that wrapped around her like a warm hug.
Familiar. Proud. The smile of a parent who watched their child do what they never could.
The embrace of a friend who knows every inch and dark crevice, but loves all the same.
The touch of a lover, safe, knowing that if the world ended, they would still choose that one moment.
“Maybe I just need the right person beside me to remind me that the impossible is possible,” he said.
She could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to let him see the sting of his words.
Words she should have been celebrating. All her life, she worried about the day Brielle chose a husband.
She worried that she’d lose her. Worse, she worried that he wouldn’t love Brielle the way she deserved.
That he wouldn’t be good enough for her.
Then came Ira. An idiot and a dreamer. His half-mad scheme is a testament to poor judgment and foresight.
His optimism was like a beacon in the darkest night.
It didn’t matter if everyone told him he was on a fool’s errand; he believed enough for all of them.
A ridiculous blind faith that was a comfort most people would never know.
A strength that meant he never gave into self-doubt or let fear of failing keep him from trying.
The perfect compliment to Brielle. Brielle, who believed in fairytales and that the world was made of more good than bad. A woman who saw a blank canvas and painted a symphony of colors and beauty. A dreamer who saw a broken orphan and called her beautiful.
Between the two of them, Meridea would soon flourish and become more than it was. A place where children got to be children and parents knew security and safety while they watched. A brand new era.
There was no sadness in that story. Her best friend would be loved and cherished. The world would be a better place. Luci would still have Brielle and be able to work with Noah and make elixirs and create.
A beautiful future for everyone.
Cynics didn’t reform overnight, though, with one good deed. At least that’s what Luci attributed to the stabbing in her chest that ebbed until it was a slow stream of aching. The kind of ache that bespoke loss.
“Meridea will be better because of its future monarchs,” she said.
Her voice was hollow, devoid of any of the hope the statement warranted. In truth, she was adrift. Lost without Brielle to anchor her. The sooner they finished this and got back to her, the better Luci would feel.
“Luci-” Ira began.
Throwing her hand up to the sky, Luci took a long breath.
“We are wasting time. We should pick up our pace,” she clicked her heel into Cinnamon, and like the coward she was, she ran.