Page 13 of Carnal Magic
“No, no, I’m fine right now. There’s absolutely nothing you can do for the next few weeks. Isiah’s been spoiling me silly, and if you’re fine with him taking over in the shop, then we don’t have to hire and train someone.”
“But—”
“No,” she interrupted forcefully. “I’m fine. There’s no need for you to rush back. This is your chance to learn about and connect with your ancestors. I’d never forgive myself if you rushed home to sit with me and mope around for weeks, waiting on doctor appointments. Take your time. Learn everything you can. If something changes, I’ll have Isiah call you.”
“Promise?” I whispered, swiping tears away.
“Yes, of course. Please stay and soak in all the family lore you can.”
“Okay. I’ll check with you again in a few days and see if you need me to head home right away.”
“You call me if you need to talk, alright? Sometimes the skeletons in the closet are pretty disturbing.”
I blew out a sigh. “No skeletons. JustPopeye’schicken that appears out of nowhere.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m sure a neighbor dropped off some food to welcome me to the town.” If any of them dared step foot on “cursed” land owned by a witch. “I do feel different here, though. Like I’m on the verge of a massive discovery and finally coming into my power.”
“Oh, sugar, that’s incredible. I’m so happy for you. Keep digging into your ancestors’ past and embrace those connections. Your spirit guides will show you the way.”
I’d never put much stock into spirit guides and angels. Keneesha believed in them, and that was enough for me to believe too, but I’d never had any intuitive connection that made me think I had a personal relationship with a higher being.
Until Great-Grandma Martha sat on the edge of her bed and talked to me.
“I will. Love you, Mama Ken.” My pet name for her.
“Love you too, baby girl. Everything’s going to be okay.”
9
Everything’s going to be okay.
Sighing, I pushed open the door to Martha’s cabin and dropped my purse and sunglasses on the small entry table. The wine bottles clanged gently as I headed to the kitchen to put my snacks away. My body ached from the climb earlier. Even the short drive back from town had been enough to let all my muscles stiffen up.
Cobbler and ice cream. My reward. And then a glass or three of wine…
Though I’d forgotten to check the freezer before I left. What if there wasn’t any vanilla ice cream? That would have been nice to know while I was at the grocery store. I sure wasn’t going to try and drive back down the mountain in the dark.
I opened the freezer and grinned. The compartment was empty except for two old-fashioned ice cube trays and a carton of vanilla ice cream.
Martha’s minimal kitchen didn’t have a microwave, so I turned the oven on to warm up a bowl of cobbler. Aloud, I said, “Too bad there’s no microwave. I might want some popcorn later.” A little test to see what the food fairy might do. If I really was able to manifest things while on the mountain…
Could I manifest healing for Keneesha?
While I waited on the cobbler to heat up a bit, I sat down at the small table and flipped through Martha’s journal. I made myself go slowly, rather than immediately opening up to the last blank page I’d seen last night. I wanted to believe—but I was terrified that Martha’s visit and the sense of magic I’d felt this morning was all a sham. Yet another sad joke in a long string of misery. Maybe Redwines really were cursed. Mama had died of cancer, and now her beloved partner faced the same battle.
The next page fluttered over to the opposite side of the journal, marked by Martha’s folded letter. I scanned it again, trying to read between the lines now that I knew more about Rebekah and the so-called Redwine curse. Martha might have been sad and miserable up here on the mountain all by herself, though her letter didn’t reflect anything but love. Joy that I’d come home. Pride in me as a person, even though she’d never met me. How long ago had she died? I wasn’t sure.
The oven timer dinged, so I got up and pulled my warmed bowl out. A nice big scoop of ice cream started melting over the top. I sat back down and made myself take a bite before I turned the page. Closing my eyes, I focused on the sweet, juicy peaches. Buttery, flaky crust. Cold, sweet cream. Maybe it was my imagination, but my taste buds seemed even more sensitive, reveling in the luscious dessert. Pleasure flickered through me, an echo of sensual sweetness that flowed through my veins.
I knew food could be an aphrodisiac but I’d never felt such a visceral, immediate response to something as innocent as cobbler before. Talk about a food-gasm.
Letting those sensations flow through me, I sent up a silent prayer to whoever might be listening.Please, let me see more of Martha’s words. I need to know.
Slowly, I turned the page over and opened my eyes.
Arwena,
