Page 13 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
“I think they prefer Wiccan. And Gram wasn’t an actual Wiccan. I feel like she was Wiccan-curious. Bi-Wiccan.”
“I might be offended by that. Find anything good in there? A monkey’s paw, or maybe a spell to permanently eliminate morning breath?”
Violet laughed. “No severed animal limbs just yet. I found great-grandmother’s journal, though.”
“Yikes. Ginger Ainsworth was a for-realfor-real witch. Remember Gram told us about it once and Dad got mad at her? She never mentioned it again, but I couldn’t forget that image—Gram as a little girl and Ginger doing weird things in the woods behind the house. She made me think that magic was real.”
Violet had only flipped through the withered pages of the leather-bound journal. There were all kinds of intricate drawings, mathematical equations and words in Latin and other languages she couldn’t identify. She hadn’t looked at it for very long. It all felt foreign, like words and symbols from another time and place. “I think Gram just liked the idea of healing and treating people with remedies from the natural earth. She was more of a naturopath vigilante.”
“She was an herbalist, Vi.”
“Hm, I’d rather have ‘Naturopath Vigilante’ on a resume.”
“What are you going to do with all that illegal marijuana in the greenhouse?”
Violet sighed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, who knows. I don’t want to think about it.”
“You can quit the job you hate and become a full-time dealer. Turn the village into Mary Jane Poppinsville.”
“Stupid. Are you being funny right now? You didn’t even want me to move here, now you’re encouraging me to become a drug lord?”
“I don’t think selling sandwich bags of weed makes you a ‘drug lord.’ If you want to quit your stable job and live out some crazy fantasy life, might as well go full throttle.”
Violet frowned, holding the phone up to her ear with her shoulder hunched and using both hands to shuffle herb bags and books around in the chest. “Yeah, no. Anyway, I wonder if the local police know about this? Theyhaveto. How could they not? I’m going to ignore it for as long as possible. Nobody’s been knocking down the door about it so far—except Freddie Martin made a lewd reference to it last week at the grocery store.”
“Ugh, Freddie Martin. Objectively, and aside from being a dimwitted bully, he’s tall and quite good-looking. I swear he had a crush on you. That’s why he was such a jerk to you all the time. Misdirected schoolboy angst and all that.”
“Whatever.” Violet picked up another small, unlabeled bag that appeared to be filled with tiny tan-colored seeds. She held the bag to her nose, then cringed. It reminded her of sulfur. “This bag is like fart seeds.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Sorry. I’m still going through the chest.”
“Did Freddie ever try anything with you?”
Violet frowned. “Why are you still talking about him?”
“Because I’m convinced you’re special to him, somehow.”
Tossing the bag into the chest, Violet stood, rubbing a palm across her jeans to rid herself of dust and stinky herb debris. “Listen, between these fart seeds and you talking about Freddie, I’m going to throw up.”
“Ha. Alright, alright…” Rose paused for a moment before asking, “So did you go to Jasper’s again?”
Not wanting to talk about this, Violet pursed her lips, frowning. She knew very well how Rose felt about the entire Jasper situation, and it was a delicate thing for Violet, always. Especially right now, after years of nothing, suddenly having him around again. She took a breath. “Yes.”
“And?”
“Nothing. I delivered his groceries.”
After a distinct and awkward silence, Rose laughed. “Oh wow, she’s being tight-lipped about this. Ms. Outspoken is keeping this one close to the chest.”
Violet didn’t respond.
“Vi, c’mon. Am I that bad about this topic?”
“Yes. Yes, you are.”
“Okay, baby sis, I’m sorry. Did you see him this time? You’ve been wanting to see him since you werenine. May I ask if he opened the door?”
