Page 16 of Magic in the Woods
That night, it rained, and I couldn’t help but think of how good that would be for our garden.Our garden.I’d gotten so comfortable here that I was beginning to feel a part of their family.
I wrote the letter to Elise and Kleio, explaining that I was safe without disclosing my location. I tucked the paper into the envelope Annabel had given me. Maybe someday we’d see each other again.
October
In the fall, I used my magic to blow the leaves that had gotten stuck beneath the trailer up into the air, the different colors blowing together into a tornado that I flicked into the woods with my fingers.
There was harvesting and canning to complete, and Emily spent more time grumbling about the work than actually doing it.
“No one else has to work this hard for their food!” Emily complained, whining.
I held my breath, waiting for Annabel’s reprimand.
“You’re right,” she replied, calmly—completely opposite to what I was expecting. “Most don’t have to grow their own food, but those people have a car to get to a grocery store…a job that pays to buy food.” She hoisted a basket of potatoes to her waist. “We don’t have a car or extra money…but we have this.” She looked out into the garden. “And we are thankful for what we have.”
I watched Emily’s bottom lip wobble at her mother’s honesty. She crouched down in the garden, digging up potatoes and brushing the dirt off their skin before setting them in the grass behind her. The Velkans didn’t have much, but they had more than I’d had at the cottage—they hadeach other, and that was something to be thankful for.
My muscles grew strong from the heavy baskets of produce I carried and the jars I brought down into the cellar next to the trailer. More often than not, I’d grab a book off the shelf in the kitchen, bringing it down with me. I’d take my time putting things away—a book in one hand and produce in the other. I could’ve lived in the cellar if the temperature hadn’t been so cold. It was quiet and dark. The spider webs in the corners glistened with droplets of moisture. I’d spent as much time down there as I could until I thought the Velkans would miss me.
Down there, my thoughts were quiet, and my body was relaxed. I could spend some quiet time with books and my thoughts, reflect on the past weeks, months—the past years of my life. There was no one to judge me but the earth—and it never voiced its opinion.
The days grew shorter, and it became dark early. It was dark enough that instead of spending an hour or two after dinner outside, everyone stayed inside the trailer.
One night, instead of a movie, Luke brought out a deck of cards. They’d started off easy on me sinceI’d never played before. But as soon as I caught on to the game, they were ruthless and treated me like any other player. I found myself laughing out loud, wanting the night to never end.
I’d never been a part of anything like this—part of a family that worked together and relaxed together, who genuinely enjoyed one another. What would it have been like to grow up like this?Having fun with my family?Maybe then I wouldn’t have grown up so sheltered and naive. I would’ve known what it was like to joke and let loose without the constant cloud of pressure my grandmother and mother had put on me to be perfect.
December
Winter arrived sooner than usual, and Annabel taught me how to make the purple concoction I’d seen her drinking every day. She used the trimmings Emily gathered from the lobelia bush outside, mashing the purple flowers in a bowl before adding them to the brew. It smelled terrible, and I wrinkled my nose as she directed me to stir the pot on the stove. As the brew cooked, the smell became almost familiar, reminding of the long days spent in the cottage with my grandmother.
“Good, Dafni, nice and slow—just like that.” Annabel pulled two jars down from the cabinet above the stove, holding them with their labels facing me. “Remember what we add next?”
I glanced between the two jars. “Red rosinweed.”
“Very good,” she said, opening the jar and shaking in thedried flowers. “Potions control emotions, and emotions control your power as a woman.”
“Is that why you drink this?” I asked as I stirred in the red rosinweed, watching the dried petals disappear in the liquid. “To control your emotions?”
“In a way.” Annabel leaned over, sprinkling in a few more petals. “It’s part of the agreement I made with your mother to live here.”
I stopped stirring, the liquid swirling around my wooden spoon. To make an agreement with my mother was akin to life in prison. She must’ve really wanted something from my mother to agree to anything with her.
“So long as I suppress my emotions with this drink, we can live here and Luke can work at the Coven.”
“Why would you agree to anything with my mother?” I asked. My mother was a raging lunatic with an affinity for cruelty. Even since birth, I’d never agreed with my mother.
“I think you’ve already realized that I’m a witch.” Annabel looked down at the concoction. “She deems me as a threat, and my children?—”
“But Luke and Emily aren’t witches,” I interrupted, the statement also a question.
“No, no,” Annabel said. “They aren’t, but your mother protects all of us…so long as I drink this.”
I took a moment to look at Annabel’s face. Her skin was youthful and supple, her lips full. But her eyes—they looked as though they’d seen a hundred years.
“Luke and Emily’s father is not a nice man,” Annabel said. “I will gladly suppress my magic to protect my children.”
I nodded, riding a small wave of jealousy.What I wouldn’t do for a mother who’d protect me.
