8. Belle
Belle
By the time next Thursday at the market rolls around, I’ve successfully avoided both Ash and Hazel and got through a couple magic lessons without going all witchy-fire-coma.
All in all, a good week.
Grandma doesn’t push me, so she gets to stay. Although to be fair, she spends most of her time in her shop, and whenever she’s at the market she’s gossiping with her old biddies.
“Sabrina said that Marsha said that Jan was seen out with Eddie Harper,” one of the biddies loudly whispers over her tea. They’ve taken to using the tent as their own personal safe zone from the cold.
Grandma and the rest of the women gasp as I giggle. I can’t say I don’t enjoy it. They gossip like it’s their job, and I am a sucker for old lady tea. Both literally and figuratively.
I’ve also gotten pretty decent at a warming spell, so the tent is comfortable despite the pillows of snow covering the ground. It’s my way of bribing them not to gossip about me. I don’t think it works that much.
“And you know Eddie was seen out just two weeks ago with Christine.”
I stifle a laugh. They’re incorrigible.
A light brush tickles my leg where I’m sitting at the booth and I jump. I bend in half under the tablecloth and there it is.
A cat . . . I think.
The creature’s the size of a slightly bigger dog, but it’s distinctly feline. One of those giant things you see on the internet that you can’t believe is actually real and not in a zoo.
Big brown eyes blink up at me as I get out of my chair and drop to her level. She has golden fur with randomly placed dark spots.
Not that I’ve seen evidence that she is a she, but it’s the vibe. I can just tell.
“Hi there,” I coo softly. “Who are you?”
Big, rounded ears twitch at the sound of my voice. She gently pads a little closer.
“Do you belong to anyone? Do we need to find your people?” She doesn’t have a collar, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s a stray. “Would you like to come out from under there?”
I back up a little, lifting the tablecloth up for her. She follows, getting up into my space. Her eyes lock with mine and with a delicate mew, she sits on my lap.
Well then.
“Looks to me like you’ve been adopted, dear,” Grandma says, coming up behind me. I’m sitting on the ground with a ginormous cat in my lap. Totally normal.
“How do we know someone isn’t looking for her?”
A gentle purr billows out of her chest as she nuzzles in.
Grandma pats my shoulder. “You can certainly make an effort, of course. But witches and cats have a long history. I fear you have a new companion for life.”
“What do you think, cat? Do you want to come home with me?” I ask, scratching underneath her chin. Her purr intensifies, rumbling through my body. Not too dissimilar from the buzz of the soulmate bond, if I’m honest.
“You didn’t have a choice in the matter!” one of the biddies says from where they’re watching me.
I don’t suppose I do.
After a walk through the market to truly make sure no one recognizes her, I gather Cat up and take her to the pet store before taking her home. Thankfully Grandma already has some things for Rosie, but Cat will need her own things.
I push the door to our house open, Cat still bundled in my arms.
I also need to come up with a name for her other than Cat. That’s terrible.
“What do you think? Do you have any name suggestions?” I ask Cat as she chows down on her dinner.
She doesn’t spare me a look. Fair.
I’m on my own, it seems.
I watch her eat as I sit on my bed. Apparently witches and cats have a thing, so maybe my witchy powers can tell me what her name is.
Her tail swishes back and forth, long legs ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. She probably needs a bell just like Noah and Rosie.
I snort.
Belle.
“What do you think about the name ‘Belle?’” I ask her.
She lifts her head slowly from her food, making eye contact with me once again. She huffs, gives a slight nod, and then goes back to eating.
Guess her name is Belle.