10. The Magic of Books
The Magic of Books
SPARROW BLACKBURNE
By Wednesday of the following week, Sparrow still hadn’t come up with a good way to tell her sister that she had volunteered them to help out at the bookshop all weekend.
She had given herself until tonight to inform Lark and, unfortunately, chickened out all week, leaving her anxiously twisting a lock of hair around her finger.
Tonight, at dinner, then, she thought glumly.
Her day at the Pumpkin Hollow Town Library passed by entirely too fast for her liking, probably just to spite her.
Plenty of customers who needed help finding specific books, readers who wanted to get a jump on fall reading lists.
Even students who wanted to pick up their next few reads for English Class or Witch History.
Sparrow’s mind bounced from one task to the next effortlessly, only to realize the clock now read three in the afternoon. Her shift would be over in less than two hours. That meant facing her twin and dealing with her smug comments—something she truly dreaded.
All week, Lark had acted like she could see into Sparrow’s mind.
That she knew about each and every dream about the pretty purple-haired witch working just down the way on Main Street.
As if she had seen every dance among the twinkle lights and all the gentle kisses under the full moon.
Sparrow blushed furiously at the thought that her private thoughts had been seen.
“Miss?” a voice called from nearby, startling her.
“Ah! Um, yes? Can I help you?” She turned to look at the child who had spoken, her blue eyes just a bit too wide.
“Can you show me where the graphic novels are?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
She tucked her dark locks behind her ear and gestured down the row. “Right this way, young witch.”
“Thanks,” the boy chirped when they arrived in front of the stack of illustrated books.
Sparrow wondered if he had been quiet because he was embarrassed that he still liked picture books, or if his guardian frowned upon the graphic novels for not being “real” reading material.
That had been a more recent trend among middle schoolers in the last few years.
While she understood where the parents were coming from, as a librarian, Sparrow thought the fact that they were reading for fun was far more important.
Soon, his arms were full, a towering stack of books that threatened to tumble to the floor if he missed even one step.
He dutifully followed Sparrow back to the check-out desk, his smile as bright as the sun.
It made her heart squeeze in her chest, to see a young witch taking such a liking to the world of books that she had always adored.
“We have two new series of graphic novels coming in next week,” Sparrow informed him as he handed her the last of his books to scan. “They should be right up your alley.”
“Oh, wow, really?” His eyes lit up, his smile growing impossibly wider.
She nodded, her own small smile widening just a bit. Then he hurried off, his books tucked into his bulging backpack, practically skipping out the front door of the library in his hurry to get home and read his new books.
“That never gets old,” a rumbling voice said beside her.
Sparrow leaped back, clutching at her heart, her shock written plainly on her face. “W-what?!”
“Good afternoon, Miss Witch,” said Bramble the talking cat, his smirk evident. “I never get tired of seeing new witchlings discover the magic of books. The endless worlds to explore.”
“I…I completely agree. But I do wish you wouldn’t sneak up on me like that, Mr. Bramble,” Sparrow ground out, trying her best to keep her temper in check.
“Apologies, my dear. That was rather inconsiderate of me,” the cat replied with a chuckle.
Her blue eyes narrowed, taking in his mischievous grin and the sparkle in his eyes. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Me? Oh, no, nothing at all,” Bramble drawled casually, stretching his front paws out in front of him. “I just wanted to confirm that we are all set for Saturday morning.”
“We should be available. I plan to arrive around eight in the morning, if that’s all right with you and Fern,” said Sparrow quickly, her cheeks flushing a soft shade of pink.
The cat narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, like he could smell her change of emotion. “Good, good! We look forward to enjoying your company. Fern has been feeling rather overwhelmed with the number of tasks to complete on her own.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Sparrow replied with a frown. “She’s on her own this year?”
“Indeed, she is. Her parents are enjoying their retirement in Florida,” answered Bramble helpfully.
“But until now, the three of them have done all the preparations together?” she asked, hoping to clarify things a bit before she arrived to assist the cottage witch.
Those wide green eyes glimmered in the light from the front windows. “An annual family tradition, as it were. Alas, it seems two hands are not enough to complete the workload of three.”
“I understand,” said Sparrow slowly. “Does Fern have no extended family in the area who could lend a hand?”
“Sadly not. Tragic, isn’t it?” asked Bramble with a coy smile.
“That’s too bad. Lark and I would be happy to volunteer our time this weekend, if it would make things easier for her. For Fern,” the witch spoke too quickly now, tripping over her words.
“Excellent, Miss Witch. Your assistance would be greatly appreciated,” replied the cat coolly.
When he hopped from the check-out desk to the tiled floor and disappeared out the front door, Sparrow remained rooted to the spot.
Something about the way he had asked those questions, the tone with which he spoke to her, put her on edge.
As if he had arranged this entire situation himself to force the two of them into a shared space.
Surely that would be preposterous. He was the little witch’s familiar, not some scheming relative determined to matchmake her.
Even if that had been the case, surely there were better prospective suitors in Pumpkin Hollow than Sparrow.
A girl as sweet as spun sugar and as pretty as a painting would be attracted to tall, broad-shouldered men with chiseled jaws.
Not to someone like her. Quiet, studious, a quintessential black cat. She spent all her time at work or home, enjoying the solitude and silence of her predictable little life. But Fern? Fern Appleton must love to go out with her friends, attend parties, and go to the pub.
How pretty she would look in the dark pub, a beacon of sunlight in her butter yellow dress.
Those hazel eyes growing heavy as she sipped another mulled cider, resting her head on Sparrow’s shoulder as she grew tipsy from the seasonal drink.
No, no, no, she thought adamantly. Don’t go there. It was only a dream.
The entire ten-minute walk back to her apartment after her shift consisted of imagining the pretty young witch around town.
Would she pick up another pumpkin spice latte for Sparrow this weekend?
How she had already learned her order, the witch could not be sure.
Perhaps Goldie had known whom she had been ordering for?
She arrived home flushed from both the crisp fall air and thoughts of the younger witch.
Sparrow had decided, by the end of her walk, that if Fern got them all drinks in the morning to start their day, then she would return the favor in the afternoon.
After all, she had told Sparrow what her favorite drink was, and it would revive them for another round of tasks.
“Welcome home, sister dearest,” called Lark in her musical cadence. “Did you have a good day?”
Her thoughts swirled at the image conjured in her mind. Pretty Fern holding a steaming cup of her cinnamon apple chai tea in both hands, breathing in the delicious fall scent, her mouth forming a little “o” as she took her first sip.
Would she make a happy little sound in the back of her throat, the way that Sparrow did each morning when her coffee was exactly the right shade and tasted like perfection?
“Hello? Earth to Sparrow!” her sister shouted entirely too close to her ear, causing Sparrow to windmill her arms and nearly fall over.
“You know that I despise yelling,” Sparrow grumbled, straightening her outfit.
At that, Lark smirked. “I know. You seemed to be completely lost in your thoughts, though. I needed to get your attention somehow!”
“Why don’t I believe you?” she returned, her tone sharp.
“Oh, come now, Sparrow dearest,” her twin sang melodically. “What’s on your mind? What has you so distracted?”
Sparrow glared at her sister, certain that she already knew the answer. “Nothing.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” mocked Lark with a giggle.
“Would you please just drop it?” snapped Sparrow, squeezing her eyes shut. “Also, are you free this weekend? I need your help.”
“You? You need my help?” gasped Lark with delight, clapping her hands.
Her blue eyes narrowed as she studied her sister. “Please don’t make a big deal out of this, Lark. I promised Bramble that we would help out at the bookstore with Pumpkin Festival preparations.”
“Ah!” Lark squeaked, covering her mouth with both hands and bouncing on her toes.
Her twin mimicked zipping her lips shut and throwing away the key.
But even without words, Sparrow could practically feel her sister’s thoughts ping-ponging around in Lark’s head.
She had taken a particular interest in Sparrow’s love life in the last few weeks and that attention always seemed especially keen when the topic of the pretty bookstore owner came up.
For a moment, she wondered if maybe Lark knew something that she didn’t. Could she have had a vision? Had her twin seen something of her future that Sparrow herself had not yet been shown? Surely, she would have said something to Sparrow. Wouldn’t she?