Page 6 of The Witching Hours

That seemed to satisfy him.

When Blake and Judd had finished scarfing down their food like wolves, Grace said, “Boys. Go get dressed for playing outside.”

“We want to play video games,” Blake said. Judd nodded his agreement.

“Too bad. Outside is calling. You can play video games later,” Grace said.

They both looked at Brigid to see if their mom would have her sister’s back. Brigid gave them a small smile. Theimpudence wasn’t cute, but the gambling was. Sort of. “You know what I’m gonna say.”

They both left the kitchen making a big show of grumbling with shoulders hunched over.

“When did boys decide going out to play was a punishment?” Grace asked.

Brigid took a sip of coffee before saying. “Technology.”

“Oh. Right. Speaking of that.”

Brigid wasn’t ready to talk about the phone bill. “I’m going to check on Kenny.”

“I’ll warm up your coffee.”

Kenny’s fever was climbing again. When Brigid returned to the kitchen, it was to say, “His fever is back and it’s too soon to give him more medicine. I’d better take him to urgent care.”

“Don’t be silly,” Grace said. “It’s just a virus. You have everything you need right here in the house.”

Grace was a big believer in homeopathic remedies.

“Grace. Are you sure? I don’t want to take chances with my baby.”

“First, you’ve got to stop calling him that. Second, I won’t let anything happen to my nephew. Where are those things I brought you?”

Brigid pointed to the hutch at the end of the room. Grace opened the cabinet and began selecting a mix of essential oils and herbs.

“Where are the rosebuds?” she asked over her shoulder.

“In that dark jar you can’t see through.”

“Okay.” When Grace was satisfied that everything was available, she said, “Where’s that old mortar and pestle?”

“There in the hutch.”

“Alright. I’ll work out amounts while you start grinding.”

Brigid looked toward the bedroom. “Grace, are you sure?”

“Of course. It’s what I’d do for my own.”

“We can try this, but if he’s not better by lunchtime…”

“I know. You’ll take him to urgent care.”

Brigid began grinding up rose petals as Grace added a little bit of herbs here, a couple of drops of oil there.

“I need tea tree and don’t see any here. That’s okay. I have some in the car. Be right back.”

“Okay,” Brigid said.

She’d never confess it to Grace, but she had to admit that there was something soothing about the repetitive monotony of grinding up Grace’s concoction. She let the pestle handle rest on the side of the mortar for a second so she could reach for her coffee mug on the counter behind her. As she turned her finger brushed up against a stray splinter on the back of her chair. It went deep. She jerked it out and yelled, “OW!” even though there was no one to hear.

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