Page 49 of Magic Touch
The women continue to speak of married life as if I'm not in the room. After a few minutes, I make my way to the front door. "I'll be just outside when you need me, Great Mother."
I like the sound of women talking, but I'm likely hindering what they might say if I were absent, and if Prudence wishes to say something in private, I don't want to be an obstacle.
The day is very fine with a soft breeze. Esme was right about the weather changing. No more stifling heat that requires dips in the pond. That's not to say we haven't continued swimming lessons, but the cool water was all pleasure and not much necessity.
I walk to an oak tree to the side of the house and lean against the thick trunk. Never in my life did I expect to wind up learning witchcraft in a small village or making healing teas. As Esme strolls down the street toward me, I can think of nothing I want more than what I have here in this place, in this time. I am perfectly content.
"You look pleased with yourself." Esme's smile is everything. She comes to stand next to me.
Running a finger along her silken cheek, I pull away before we are noticed by the townspeople making their way in and out of town. "I am happy. I don't know that I've ever been so before."
"I am glad of it." She opens her mouth as if to say more, but the front door opens, and Prudence shuffles out.
Rushing over, I offer my arm. "How is Mrs. Kyle?"
Prudence stares at me for a long time. "Better than I expected. What did you add to that tea?"
At once delighted and horrified, I say, "Only what you instructed, Great Mother."
Samuel pulls up to the house with the carriage, and I assist both women inside. Once I sit across from them, I continue, "You said to put my intentions into the tea, and I did that as well."
"What has happened?" Esme asks.
"In a moment, Esme." Prudence levels her gaze on me. "William, tell me exactly what you did when you made the tea."
I tell her about the pot, water, fire, and herbs. I repeat the spell I used, then I remember the vision. "I forgot. I actually forgot until this moment. I had a vision of Mrs. Kyle with her family, happy and feasting after church on Michaelmas. It was very vivid and unintentional. I was thinking of my wish to see her healthy and happy, and suddenly I was in the midst of her getting just that. It only lasted a few seconds, then I cast the spell and brought the tea."
Esme sits forward despite the rocking carriage. "What did he do?"
Shaking her head, Prudence smiles. "He healed her of a cancer that I didn't believe could be healed. When I left, she was full of good color and life. Still too thin but asking for some food. Pauline said she'd not been able to force more than a bite or two into her for weeks."
"Will it last?" I want to know.
Prudence shrugs. "I don't know. Your magic may be beyond what I can explain, William. What you did is special."
I think about the vision. "Maybe I only saw what was to be anyway. Perhaps the doctor was wrong, and her stomach was a fugue rather than a cancer."
"I suppose that is possible." Prudence doesn't sound convinced.
"I hope you'll not tell me this is another sign of dark magic." I hold my breath.
"No. Dark magic always takes something away when it gives a blessing. You took nothing, only saw what you wanted and made it so."
Her words strike deeply inside me, and my gaze shoots to Esme. She too, looks shocked. Did I want her and use my magic to draw her in? Was my magic manipulative? I couldn't ask that of Great Mother. We've not been forthcoming about our affair, and I have no idea where asking will lead. To my own shame, I don't even know what Esme wants from me beyond our sojourn in the country.
I'm lost in my thoughts as the carriage rolls down the road back to the cottage. When we arrive, I help the ladies down as if in a fog. How can I know if she truly cares for me, if my magic is of a forceful nature?
"Esme, may I have a word with you?" I whisper as she steps to the ground.
She does not answer as her fingers remain in mine.
"Who is this now?" Prudence says in a sharp tone that makes us both turn to see a young woman strolling determinedly up the lane toward us.
She has long brown hair pulled up in a loose bun, and half of it is hanging around her face and neck. Her light brown eyes assess the situation with keen regard while her lips pull up in a friendly grin. There's something cunning in her gaze, and when she looks me up and down as if I'm a horse to be bought and sold, my skin crawls.
Esme stiffens next to me.
Is she jealous of the way this girl looks at me? I'll save the question for later.
