Page 14 of Midlife Witch Unexpected

It was comforting for a moment to be in my jeep. It was the only place I felt connected to the world I had once known. I'd had the jeep for about seven years; it was getting to the end of its life, but the time we had spent together had included my daughter's graduation from high school, my 45th birthday party, and the night I left my house crying when I discovered my husband was gay. Jerry and I had been through a lot together and I sure hoped he would last a little while longer. Because right now he was the only stability I felt I had.

I drove down unfamiliar, narrow roads. With their weed and grass choked edges, they were strange compared to the broad, tree-lined Los Angeles streets. Most of the houses around here were made of wood, which had once been in plentiful supply in this region. While the hills were still covered in ample forests, now they were protected, and the town belonged more to the forest than the other way around.

It seemed like the town motto was to be tidy and it was impossible to tell the rented houses from the ones inhabited by their owners. But everywhere was a natural wildness and overgrowth of ferns, fuchsias, hedges, and grasses growing abundant and tall. Vines worked their way around tree trunks and there were no sidewalks. The thin layer of pavement just sort of ended and gave way to the dirt, which was a solid foundation underneath all the greenery living in the Pacific Northwest.

But for all the oddness and newness about it, I had the strange feeling I had found a place where I would be comfortable. Bianca was friendly and seemed normal enough. The house was very comfortable. Branson, what he did to my blood rate notwithstanding, was easy to talk to and I was happy he would be taking care of the property.

I smiled to myself as I pulled into the driveway of The Estate. Now I guess it was time to see what was going on here. I could start thinking slowly about if I was going to keep or sell it.

I didn't know what I wanted in life, but I knew I needed a project to focus on that did not require never-ending finances, and the house looked to be in pretty good shape. I didn't have to work again if I could keep my budget within reasonable means. And I could certainly do that, considering I owned this house outright. My entire settlement from the divorce, just from the value of our L.A. home, had left me enough to retire on in the country.

If that’s what I wanted.

I wasn’t sure.

My mom had escaped here to Los Angeles but ended up in the San Fernando Valley on the outskirts of the city. I’d had a good suburban upbringing with little idea of what country life or small-town life in America was like. Whenever we had gone on vacation, it had always been Paris or London or some other grand affair. Nothing so simple as a road trip up the Pacific Northwest to see the family. My mother never would’ve dreamed of it. She had forged a deep divide between us and her family, one I had never even looked across. We had spent the summer holidays with my father’s family and pretended my mother’s had never existed.

I walked up the porch stairs and back into the house, listening to the creak of my footsteps on the floorboards. It was oddly comforting. I’m not sure why. Because this is where my mother grew up? But she hated it.

It didn’t matter. I didn’t hate it.

In fact, I wanted to find out more. It was time to learn a little bit about my mother’s side of the family. I had already been into the library and the kitchen, which I secretly adored. I’d seen the atrium with the shower, as well. Downstairs there were only two other rooms left; one was the parlor and the other one was mostly empty and very red. The parlor was a lovely sitting room, but instead of having one couch, it had a circle of chairs. There were ten of them.

I knew the renters had used the place fully furnished, which had been very convenient for me, but it was rather odd that the different chairs from clearly around the house made a discerning circle around the floor. In the center of the ring, there was what could only be described as an altar. It wasn't anything grand, it was more like a plain wood pedestal. A flat board had been laid across the top, creating a high table. In the center of the high table was a copper plate with engravings on it and at the center of that was a copper bowl. I walked to the center, ignoring the chills that were making their way along my skin in a tiny rash of goosebumps.

In the bottom of the bowl, there were ashes and the faint sense of frankincense and the tang of fermented olives. A few gemstones were laid on the tray and as I look closely underneath the copper plate, there was a drawing of a five-pointed star.

I backed away slowly.

“Hey,” Branson’s voice startled the crap out of me.

I whirled, screaming as if I’d stumbled upon a dead body. “I have to get the locks changed!” I exclaimed, glaring at Branson.

He chuckled as he stabilized me with his strong warm hands. My body flared like I was in heat. Goodness, I have to shut this down. I began murmuring the very uncool lyrics to 'Ice Ice Baby' by Vanilla Ice from the 80s. My body did some jerking motions, which felt almost like dancing, and I moved quickly away from him. He looked bemused; one eyebrow raised as he watched me breakdance across the room. I didn't care. The more distance I could get from him, the better.

“Did you see in there?” I distracted him from me by pointing at the altar. “Who were you renting this place to?”

“I rented it to the people it said in the will to rent it to,” Branson said. “That’s my job.”

“And to take care of the grounds, right?” I asked.

“Do the grounds look like they haven’t been cared for?” Branson countered. “Yeah, I do that, too. I came over today to do some of the yard work.” He glanced into the room where the pedestal and the five-pointed star were. “You met three of them today, there’s one more. They’re just a club of harmless people. They used to come and hang out with your aunt.”

“Do they think they are witches?” I asked my skin tingling as the words came out of my mouth.

Branson shrugged. “They think whatever they want. We’re easy-going around here, you do what you want to do. What makes you happy. And don’t bug other people. If you do that you won’t have a problem. No one’s got a problem with the Cougar Creek Coven.”

“Coven?” I asked. “How do you even say that without laughing?”

Branson just stared at me like I was the one who was a little cracked. “What does it matter what they call themselves?”

“It’s taking LARPing to a whole new level.” I shook my head.

“What is LARPing?” he asked.

“Live Action Role Playing,” I explained. “My daughter used to play it.”

“Oh awesome,” Branson said. “How old is she?”

---