Page 33 of Magic Touch
"Pauline Mercer, my lady. I would appreciate that more than you can know." The woman's grin surely shines all the way back to Windsor.
We meet half a dozen more local people who have requests or good wishes for Prudence.
I suppose, in such a small town, word travels quickly, but I've never seen such adoration for anyone. Prudence is revered, and I can't tell if it's for being so old, or for her good works as a witch.
Esme grins when she sees an apothecary's shop, but then looks at me with worry. "I'd like to go inside, if you don't mind waiting."
I stride to the door and hold it open for her. As she passes, I whisper, "You never need to ask such a thing."
Inside, a man who looks as old as Prudence ambles a few feet to the counter. "Oh, here you are then. I'm Baily Thymes. I heard Madam Bishop had returned. Are you both her students?"
"Only me." I search the shelves as if I know what I'm about, but it's all liquids and powders with labels I don't understand. It's stuffy with damp in the shop.
"I heard you came with servants. Very grand." He smiles, showing off his few teeth.
Esme says, "The old mother needs more help at her age. We came with enough help to keep her comfortable, Mr. Thymes. You have a fine shop."
Even with his stooped shoulders, he stands up a bit straighter. "Thank you, madam. Can I help you with some ailment?"
"I am well, sir. Perhaps another day." Esme turns to leave.
"Wait." Mr. Thymes holds up a hand. "Will you wait a moment? I would like to give you something."
With a slow nod, Esme watches the proprietor grab his cane and make his way to a back room.
"What's this about?" I ask.
She shrugs. "I have no idea."
Voices from the back room indicate that someone else besides the apothecary lives on the premises.
Not sure what to expect from a town full of people who clearly know they are more than caretakers to an old woman, I speak low. "Should we leave, Esme?"
"I sense no malice. If for no other reason, we should stay for curiosity's sake." Her smile could make me stay a thousand years if that's what she wanted.
A few minutes of pacing the small shop, and I'm bored to tears and sick of the damp scent.
Mr. Thymes clomps out with his cane in one hand and a basket in the other. "If you wouldn't mind bringing this to the old mother. Tell her Mrs. Thymes and I would be pleased if she wishes to use our humble shop to see to people."
Esme gives a nod, takes the basket, and says, "This is very kind, and I will deliver your message."
The scent of baked goods and meat fills my head. Whatever is in the basket smells heavenly.
We say our goodbyes and head back toward the cottage. I take the basket from Esme and pull back the linen cloth to find cured ham, sausage, and a loaf of bread. "It's as if she's a queen here."
"I suppose we shall find out why." Esme holds her elbows and lifts her face to the late-day sun. "I think I like the country."
She's so lovely, I want to find a private corner of the world and keep her with me for eternity. It takes several long breaths before I say, "The country suits you."
She cocks her head. "You know, it's strange, but I think so, too."
We walk silently until we reach the lane to the cottage. I've never felt more comfortable with any woman. Men often keep silent in company, especially when at war. However, I was always taught to engage young women in conversation, lest the meeting be awkward. With Esme, there is no uncomfortable moment. Being with her in conversation or silence has a rightness to it.
Perhaps I’m losing my mind with all this witchcraft.
We take the basket to the kitchen and are surprised to find Prudence sitting at the long table shucking peas with Anne.
Anne smiles until she sees me. Then she jumps up. "Sir, I'm sorry. My lady insisted on helping."
