It all felt so normal. And she wondered how different their Revelare blood really made them. Magic wasn’t always spells and curses and charms. Sometimes it was the comfortable silence of a good meal, and smiling eyes that met across the room and spoke more than words.
She went to bed with tired arms, no closer to finding a solution but a little closer to rediscovering a small piece of herself. As she fell asleep, there was the tap, tap, tap of the oak tree against her window that sounded like fingernails against glass. She wasn’t sure if the wicked growl of laughter was real or only echoing in her dream.
The next morning was quiet as the aunts were out doing mysterious errands about town. There were only eight days left, but she couldn’t put it off any longer. The honey chrysanthemum scones were judging her silently every time she passed them. Finally, she plucked some heather from the windowsill and slipped it in her pocket, grabbed the container of scones, and set off toward Rock Creek House.
Her boots squelched through mud, and she wished she’d worn a hat as her ears pinked against the cold. But the walk was worth it as the rain had turned everything various shades of green. Vibrant moss and muted lichen, snowdrops bursting through clumps of brambles along the path. The crisp snap of fresh air against her face, chapping her lips and making her eyes sting. It was glorious. With only her thoughts and the sounds of her boot heels breaking twigs and a stream bubbling nearby, she let the sanctity of the forest press in on her, press her nerves away.
But all too soon, she was at Rock Creek House. There were swatches of paint colors on the front. A deep green to camouflage it among the forest, a tan that didn’t belong, and there, on the right, the most perfect cream with yellow undertones. And she could see it all. The house in meringue with robin’s egg blue trim. Flower boxes under the windows with bleeding hearts and gladiolas. All the details swam before her eyes before she blinked, and they vanished. She sighed. Wanting what she couldn’t have was getting exhausting.
Friends, she reminded herself. You’re here to make a friend. Her knock echoed and her heart beat fast.
The door opened, and Bethany appeared. She wore her thick hair piled in a bun on top of her head, patterned leggings, and a cream sweater.
“Oh, hello,” she said. “Are you looking for Jake? He’s not here.”
“That’s okay. I’m actually here to see you. I made honey chrysanthemum scones,” she held up the Tupperware. “As a welcome to the neighborhood.”
“Oh! Thank you so much. Wow. Why don’t you come in? I can make us some coffee—or do you have time?”
“Absolutely,” Sadie said, walking in as Bethany stepped back. The memories cascaded over her, and the attic whispered of the past, but Sadie shoved them down.
“I was sorry to hear about your grandmother.” Bethany busied herself with a French press and the electric teakettle, getting down two plates and forks and setting them on the table.
“Thanks,” Sadie said, trying to ignore the tightness in her throat.
“It does get easier, but for a while it feels like you can’t breathe. Like you constantly want to pick up the phone and call her until you remember, and then it kind of sucks all over again.”
Sadie nodded because she didn’t trust herself to speak.
“These look delicious,” Bethany added, opening the container and setting a scone on each plate.
“They’re supposed to help you be open.”
“Jake told me about that. How all your food means something.” There was a hint of hardness to her words that she tried to cover with a smile.
“My grandmother taught me that everything has meaning,” Sadie said. “I like to think it’ll be a way to keep her memory around. How are you liking small-town life?”
“It’s …” Bethany paused as the pushed the plunger of the French press down. “It’s not quite what I was expecting,” she continued. “Jake is trying to sell me on it, you know? But I only have a week of vacation left, and I’m kind of itching to get back to the city. How do you take your coffee?” she asked.
“Sugar, if you have it. And oh, I brought some orange-infused honey for the scones,” she said, pulling it out of her bag.
Bethany got a spoon and the sugar bowl down from the cabinet and then sat down across from Sadie.
“I could live on sweets.” Bethany sighed and closed her eyes as she took a bite of scone. “Mmm, God, this is seriously so good.”
“Thanks,” Sadie said. “How is pregnancy treating you? Any nausea or anything?”