Page 37 of Potions and Proposals
“Eavesdropping again?” Lucy nudged her friend.
“I can’t help it – that tea really messed with my senses.” Rosie pouted, putting down the computer with a clunk.
“Tea?” Emerson looked between them, brows pulled together behind his glasses.
“Long story.” Lucy grabbed her lunch and melted iced tea from the desk. “I’ll meet you out front at closing.”
“What about lunch?” he offered, pushing his glasses higher on his perfectly straight nose. “You could update me on your progress, or if you’ve notes you’d like me to transcribe—”
She waved the sandwiches in her hand. “I’ve got to work through, and no materials relating to ancestorial magic, not evennotes, are allowed to leave the vault,” she informed him, heading back down. She didn’t always follow that rule, but she didn’t want him knowing that.
Before the ceiling sealed itself over her head, she heard Rosie eagerly accepting his help. Lucy swallowed her nerves as she lit the torches again, this time intentionally. She rolled her fingers over her palms.Fire might not be so hard to control after all. I just need to make sure I don’t use it in front of Emerson.
Within the vault, she settled into her seat and pulled the grimoire from its secure case. She clenched her fists, afraid of touching its delicate pages, but she needed to conquer her fears if she was going to find the potion.
“Hopefully I’ll still be able to read it. If it senses Benedict’s element, it may refuse to open,” she muttered to herself.
She ran her hand gently over the spine, testing the latch. The knots in her stomach unravelled when it popped open.
Turning the first page, she let out a sigh when she was able to read the first line.Okay. This confirms that Benedict’s element hasn’t affected my ancestral connection. That should help us both get through the rest of the month.Flipping through the pages, she found the curse-stripping potion, but she still had to translate the ingredients perfectly or risk doing more harm than good. She hoped they wouldn’t have to use it.
She didn’t want to keep Emerson waiting, so when the clock struck six, she latched the grimoire and tucked it away. Her phone showed several texts and two missed calls from an impatient Benedict, but she didn’t want to reply until she had a back-up plan. That way, if correcting the original spell Grams used didn’t work, they’d have an alternative potion ready to go. She dropped her phone in her bag with a huff. She understood his frustration, but she was working as fast as she could.
Benedict paced in front of the white picket fence surrounding the Hawthorne property. Every breeze reminded him of his missing element; without the heat he felt overwhelmingly vulnerable. With all that had happened at the coven meeting, he wondered if he’d still be welcome here, but he hoped his sudden appearance would earn him an invitation. The last thing he wanted was to intrude on their evening. However, Lucinda hadn’t replied to his last several texts, and he was beginning to feel like some jilted ex rather than her fiancé.
He’d stopped by the library, where Rosie had told him Lucy had gone home to have dinner with the handsome professor who’d just arrived in town this morning. Hearing how helpful and polite this professor was had made Benedict want to flood the library. He couldn’t believe Lucinda would invite a stranger to Hawthorne House, yet ignore his calls.
Then again… Benedict paused with his hand on the gate, smiling to himself. Lucy had always loved strays. At school, he’d once discovered her trying to heal an injured fox in the seniors’ brewing room. All she’d managed to do was turn the poor creature green. A Hawthorne inept at healing was like a vampire without fangs, and seeing the tears in her eyes had been more than he could stand. In fact, seeing any woman cry made him uneasy; he suspected it was something to do with his mother’s grief for his father. But seeing Lucinda, who loved to smile and find the silver lining in every situation, in tears had caused an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. The only way to make her smile had been to help the fox, but he’d known she would never willingly accept his help. He’d tossed her a healer’s guide for animals and goaded her into trying it.
As he’d hoped, she couldn’t resist his challenge. At school the next morning, Benedict had spotted the fox picking at the school bins, healthy and restored to its normal self – as was Lucinda’s smiley nature.
He clenched his jaw, suspecting the new professor wasn’t going to be as easy to handle as the fox. Shaking away memories, he pulled off his suffocating tie, shoving it in his jacket pocket, and opened the gate. As he walked the cobble path dividing the overgrown garden, he couldn’t help but admire the colours. Beautiful, bold and a bit chaotic, like all Hawthorne women.
Sitting on the front porch was who he was looking for.
“Benedict! What a lovely surprise; we weren’t expecting you,” Grams Hawthorne said, a thick blanket wrapped over her rounded shoulders. Her creased smile reached her eyes, the same as Lucinda’s. He put on his most charming smile.
“Excuse my intrusion. I wanted to stop by and say I’m sorry for the other night at the coven meeting. How Gwendoline approached the situation…” Benedict fumbled through his excuse. “Anyway, I wanted to drop off some new herbal teasmade from the Manor Gardens. Mum said she forgot to give them to Wilhelmina at the meeting.” Hopefully the gesture would help mend some fences and ensure his invitation to dinner. Grams was the last person he wanted to upset.
“No need for you to be apologising. You had nothing to do with the scheme, and you’re always welcome here.” Grams winked, putting him at ease, rocking gently back and forth on the chair. “As much as you tease each other, I know there’s a good heart beneath that shirt, and you’d never hurt Lucinda.”
Her faith in him never failed to surprise him. He’d never forgotten her kindness when he’d lost his brother. Gwendoline had ordered him not to cry during the funeral. However, after the service, when everyone had left the cemetery, Grams had let him sob on her shoulder until there were no tears left. He realised that was probably the last day he’d cried.
Grams watched him peer in the window behind her.He wanted to meet the stranger lingering around his intended.
“Are you sure that’s the only reason you stopped by?” She smiled knowingly, exposing the deep smile lines around her lips.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, handing her the tea before they were interrupted.
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re a terrible liar, Benedict.”
His smile flattened. He wondered if she could sense the Hawthorne element within him.
“Mum, what are you doing out here? I thought you were preparing the dessert?” Wilhelmina said, popping her head out of the mint-green shutter.
“The dessert is in the fridge, and it would’ve been terribly rude not to welcome our guest,” Grams said, winking at Benedict – who went unnoticed, due to the angle of the window.
“Our company is sitting at our dinner table, waiting for tiramisu. Come inside, and don’t even think about smoking your pipe. Doctor’s orders!” Wilhelmina added, wrapping hereye-searingly colourful shawl around her shoulders. Benedict had never understood the Hawthorne obsession with colour; a rainbow would find these women intimidating.
