Page 12 of Witchful Thinking

Even so, Ursula deserved her happy ending. It was her day.

“What’s the new date?” Lucy asked.

Ursula made an embarrassed face. “It’s August 28. It’s not that busy, right?”

“Hey, that’s right after the Freya Flea!” Callie said. “I can get your something-old gift then! Look at the stars align.”

Sirena’s jaw dropped. “You’re getting married on the last weekend of the summer. People have vacation plans. Do you want anyone at this wedding?”

Lucy bit her lip. Their recently retired parents had just booked tickets for a Hawaiian cruise for late August. They’d be disappointed that they probably wouldn’t be able to attend the wedding.

“All I’m asking for is one day.” Ursula sighed, weary. “That’s all I wish for.”

Sirena slid Lucy a secret look. Sincere concern for their cousin was clear in her glance.

“There might be a spell for that,” Lucy said. She went over to the bookshelf on the far wall. No one moved or spoke. She took out the thick tome with a brown leather cover, two ribbon markers, and their family symbol—four linked hearts in a circle pattern. It was the Caraway spell book. Her finger traced the symbol slowly, having drawn and redrawn this sign on every notebook she used since she was in grade school. It was their protection, a source of strength, and a connection to those who came before them and those who would follow their path. She brought the book over to the couch, cradling it in her lap. Ursula settled next to her on her left side, anticipation practically radiating from her. Callie sat on the right side.

“You’ve got a spell in mind,” Ursula said.

“I’ll know it when I see it,” Lucy responded. She didn’t raise her head while she spoke, keeping her attention on the current task. Lucy flipped through the well-worn and loved aged pages. Buzzy magic tickled her hands. Over the last hundred years, the Caraways had collected secondhand knowledge, rituals, and beliefs of mothers, aunts, and sisters to create their craft. Ursula nervously chatted on. Lucy only half listened as she struggled to locate the spell or root that might help them solve their current problem. Lucy read the titles as she flipped through the book. “Pay the Piper, Basic Care for Familiars, Key Work, Seeds and Garden.”

“Maybe I can help.” Ursula reached for the book, but Lucy slapped her hands away.

She was nearly at the book’s end; the pages were getting sparse. Her mind was congested with doubt. What if the spell she needs isn’t here? What if you can’t help her? What then? Lucy searched on against those nagging questions. She reached the very last page.

It was written in Nana’s spidery handwriting. Wish Spell.

Lucy leaned in to get a closer look, then pulled away. No way. This spell was a Caraway family legend, but she’d never seen it written down. Her heart lurched. There wasn’t a Caraway witch who hadn’t heard the bedtime story of the naive caster who used a wish spell and changed her life. It shouldn’t even exist; it was only a story. She looked at her waiting family members.

Confusion crossed Sirena’s face. Ursula’s eyes widened. Callie brightened.

“I found it,” Lucy said. It was the wish spell.

“It’s a sign.” Ursula pressed the page against her palm. The book appeared to glow from the touch. “I know it. Nana claimed Madame Zora gave her this spell.”

“She also claimed that we’re related to Pam Grier,” Sirena said.

“It’s real,” Callie insisted.

“The wish spell is a fairy tale told to keep all Caraway witches from abusing their powers.” Sirena studied the page with a critical squint.

“Well, this is meant to be,” Ursula said. “It’s Friday night. The moon is full—”

“We’re drunk,” Sirena interjected, raising her glass.

“It’s the perfect time.” Ursula chewed on her lip and stole a look at them. “I don’t want to do this alone. You’re my girls. You’re my Caraway crew. So, what do you say?”

There was defiance in her words as well as a call to action. This was the point of no return. Nana used to call her four granddaughters the Four Musketeers because they were always looking after one another and the spells they cast. They conjured as a group, their power strengthened in their numbers. If they were going to do this spell, then they’d do it as one.

If wishes were fishes, they were going to cast their nets at the same time.

Caraways stuck together. That was the rule.

Sirena pushed up into a standing position. “I’m wishing for a sex god,” she said.

“Wish for a million dollars. It will last longer than your sex god,” Callie quipped.

Sirena stood, looking over the wish paper, and made a sound. “We need pomegranate seeds and hazelnuts.”

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