The Unfortunate Side Effects of Heartbreak and Magic(20)

She had never hated her curse more than in that moment.

She wiped the traitorous tears from her eyes and hardened her heart against the pain. She couldn’t dwell on that now. She couldn’t risk heartbreak when she needed her magic now more than ever.





Vanilla Jasmine Tea with Black Pepper and Cinnamon

If you don’t like spice, you won’t like this. It’s a spicy floral tea that will give you the clarity to see what’s missing in your life while helping draw those things to you through good fortune. But remember, good fortune will only get you so far, and for the rest you’ll have to rely on your own wit and wisdom.

Ingredients

jasmine tea

1 vanilla bean pod

1–2 drops cinnamon bark oil

1–2 drops black pepper oil

Directions

1.?Scrape vanilla bean pod into pot of boiling water, strain, and use to brew tea.

2.?Drop in cinnamon bark oil and black pepper oil. Enjoy.

(To increase clarity and focus, diffuse 4 drops clary sage and 4 drops frankincense while drinking tea.)





??4??


SADIE SLEPT FITFULLY THAT night. She awoke with a crick in her neck and a sour taste in her mouth, finally trudging out of bed at dawn with the phantom smell of ash trailing her like a bad decision.

In the sleepy little kitchen, she put the kettle on to boil and thoughtfully eyed her jumbled collection of tin canisters filled with various blends of teas and herbs. In a mesh bag, she mixed one teaspoon of mango black tea for focus and energy, a sprinkle of dried lavender for calm, and a few buds of clove for both dignity and the ability to withstand troubles. Tying the bag with string, she dropped it into a cup of water that measured exactly two hundred and twelve degrees. As it steeped, she added a dash of cinnamon for stability and a drizzle of honey for sweetness.

The old hardwood floors creaked as the sound of pattering paws reached her. Bambi, tail wagging, sat at her feet.

“Today will be better,” she told him, scratching behind his ears. “Today will be a good day. We’ve got work to do. Nothing is happening to Gigi on my watch.”

She sipped her tea, the bright floral earthiness dancing on her tongue, and tried not to think of Seth. Or to wish that he was here.

Their last argument had been brutal. “You use people,” he’d seethed. “You’re so afraid of your curse that you let people love you until you get too close, then you push them away. For your magic. You’re a manipulator. Only using people for what they can do for you.”

“I’ve never treated you like that,” Sadie had argued.

“You didn’t have to! Jesus, Sade. You couldn’t not love me. I’m your twin! And I see who you could be if you weren’t so goddamn afraid of who you’d be without what you can do. There’ll come a time when people figure you out, and they’ll get sick and tired of the way you take and take without ever loving in return.”

“I don’t just take! I give! That’s why my magic is so important; I help people,” she insisted.

“Helping people isn’t the same as loving them, Sadie.”

She shook off the memory as she drank the cold dregs of her tea and started making a list of healing herbs. She loved Gigi. And magic would save her. That, as far as she was concerned, was that.

She ran through possibilities. Adder’s tongue and amaranth, of course, not to mention goat’s rue and heliotrope. She would start off with something small. Maybe trying to heal a dead plant. Or if she could find an injured animal in the forest, even better. This would work. It had to.

She snapped her notebook closed, and with determination in every step, prepared for the most important task of her life.

She got to the café far earlier than she needed to gather the rarer herbs she kept in the kitchen. After work she’d round up the other herbs from her garden and prep them for the spell.

She drank in the quiet comfort of her shop. The long front counter, made from reclaimed wood, was spotless. She watered the plants and herbs in their clay pots, where they rested on hand-milled wood shelves. Next to them, old black and white framed photos of Poppy Meadows in the 1940s hung on the wall. All throughout the space, Edison bulbs dripped from the ceiling at different heights. Hand-strung crystals rained down from horizontally suspended manzanita branches, reflecting rainbows of early morning light across all of the surfaces. It smelled like the holidays from the cleaner she made herself. Clove and lemon and citrus, with a hint of eucalyptus. It was like walking into a Christmas morning memory. And it was quiet. The peaceful kind of quiet that was laced with hope and expectation.

The large glass front cases were stocked with the day’s offerings, their handwritten cards placed tidily beside each dish. There were apricot and basil shortbread tarts for protection, and peach thyme crumbles in individual cups, if you weren’t feeling like yourself. There was lemon and lavender pound cake that had been baked in mini Bundt tins, if sleep was eluding you. Sadie served it with decaf Duchess Grey tea with extra milk and a generous dollop of clover honey. Now she sat at the high counter along the far wall, where all the stools were mismatched but perfect neighbors.

She took a deep breath. Everything was ready. Everything felt right.

“Today is going to be a good day,” she said again, speaking into the cheery silence of the shop.