“And when Steven gets back, we’re looking at a piece of property on the edge of town,” said Aunt Anne. “We’ll be able to have goats and chickens and dogs, and we’ll only be about ten minutes from everyone. Close enough for Sunday family dinners. And for me to help you in the café, if you want it,” she added to Sadie.
Seth looked at his sister and she stared back. When they were young, they had lived for the holidays when aunts and uncles and cousins would stream through the house, a rainbow of color and noise and activity everywhere.
“You’re …” Sadie started but couldn’t finish.
“You’re staying?” Seth finished for her.
“This has been a long time coming, baby,” Tava told her. “There were a lot of pieces in play that kept us from each other. But now we’re all here. And we all plan to stay. Some of the kids are moving back too. Emily and Madison and the kids and husbands. The others that can’t move because of jobs or school have already booked time off for Christmas so we can really do it up right.”
“Every Revelare leaves, but they always come back,” said Uncle Brian. “And now is our time, kiddo.”
“Hey, you think you’ll ever leave?” Seth asked, turning to Sadie.
“Haven’t you realized yet that I’m the exception to every rule?”
“And so humble too,” he answered. “But you know, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
“Stop trying to get rid of me, Seth. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Neither am I,” Florence said. “At least, I plan on staying. If you’ll have me, that is.”
“Of course,” Seth said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Sadie seemed to have lost her voice. “Now all we need to do is figure out this conduit shit,” Seth continued. “Sorry, I mean stuff,” he added, glancing at Sage.
“We shouldn’t talk about that in front of Sage,” Sadie said, finally speaking up.
“She may be a child, but she’s an old soul. And she’ll know everything anyway,” Florence said with a shrug as she slathered butter on a piece of toast. She offered no further explanation, and Sadie wondered about the particulars of Sage’s magic. She looked at the child, with her wide, expressive eyes, but she was focused on her second bowl of cereal.
Sadie was so tired of not believing. Of expecting the worst. Of fearing the abandonment that always plagued her. So, she pulled out the vial of bright blue tansy she’d put in her pocket earlier and dabbed some behind her ears. Courage. To believe in the impossible. She smiled. And this time, it almost felt real.
A little later Sadie kicked everyone out of the kitchen so she and Sage could get started baking. With her magic somewhat settled and Sage there to help balance her out, an old, worn calm returned to her. The peace of treading the path from the counter to the fridge and back. Of the feel of flour rubbed between fingers and measuring cups perfectly fit to her hand. Florence asked if she could join, if only to watch and help where needed, and Sadie was comfortable with her place at the counter where she sat next to Raquel. The kitchen was warm, and the air was sweet and the snick of the oven door opening and closing was a Band-Aid over her bruised heart.
They spent the rest of the day in the kitchen and garden, where Simon pounced on Sage’s feet and mewed at Sadie with indignance as she told him off. Abby trailed after Tava, ignoring everyone else. And Bambi sat at the fence line, barking every so often toward Rock Creek House.
Sadie was surprised at how effortlessly they all moved around each other. Laughter trailed them like sunflowers leaning toward the sun, and Sadie realized how much she’d missed being in the kitchen with someone.
They made jars of orange-infused honey that would bring joy back into the lives of those who ate it, sachets of snowdrop tea to give hope, and hard-candy wood sorrel drops to help new mothers. There was olive oil infused with rosemary and black pepper to encourage adventurous love, and yellow rose petal jam to make the eater forgive and forget.
Seth came in to help in the late afternoon, but he kept getting in the way and making Sage laugh so much they lost track of measurements, so Sadie banished him. He breezed in and out, sat at the high counter on his computer, and finally took Bambi for a walk.
She taught Sage how to cut in cold butter and they dipped their fingers in the orange-infused honey, watching as the fading sunlight caught the amber strands.
They ordered pizza for dinner, and everyone ate in the living room, with grease-stained paper plates on their laps and the coffee table, as an episode of Bonanza played quietly in the background. Bambi ambled from person to person, begging for scraps, with hearts in his eyes, until he finally took his usual place at Sage’s side. The two of them were becoming inseparable, and Sadie idly wondered if she should give Jake his dog back but decided against it. It felt like having a piece of him there with her. Simon meanwhile had perched on top of the grandfather clock, looking down at Bambi and Abby with narrowed eyes, waiting to pounce.