Spells

TEN

LAUREL SAT CROSS-LEGGED IN HER ROOM, SORTING through school supplies and packing her backpack. David, who had been ready to go back to school for a week now — probably a month, Laurel just didn’t have proof — was sprawled out on her bed, watching her. She pulled a four-pack of multicolored highlighters out of her shopping bag and took a moment to hug them to her chest. “Oh, highlighters,” she crooned melodramatically, “how I missed you!”

David laughed. “You can take them with you next year.”

“Wow. Next year. At the moment I can’t even imagine working that hard again.” She looked up at him. “Wasn’t this supposed to be summer vacation?”

David reached down and wrapped his arms around her chest, lifting her up onto the bed beside him as she laughed. “Didn’t feel like much of a vacation for me, either, with you gone the whole time,” he said, leaning back against her pillows.

Laurel curled up against his chest. “And now it’s over,” she lamented.

“Day’s not finished yet,” David whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

“Well,” Laurel said, holding her face straight, “my parents do tell me to make the most of every day.”

“I’m quite in agreement with that,” David said mockingly, but with a hint of growl in his voice. His fingertips pressed against her back as he softly kissed her shoulder, bare beneath the strap of her tank top. Laurel’s arms twined around his neck and she ran her fingers through his hair. It was one of her favorite things to do. The silky curls would catch just a little on her fingertips, then slide through as she pulled a bit harder.

David’s breath sounded in the back of his throat as his lips found hers and Laurel let herself slip into the pleasant satisfaction she always felt in David’s arms. She smiled as he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “How did I ever get so lucky?” he asked quietly, his hand resting along her ribs.

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Laurel replied, leaning closer and kissing him gently. Once, twice, and the third time she pulled him in harder, enjoying the feel of his mouth against hers. Her hand wandered under his shirt, feeling his rapid breath expand his ribs. She hesitated for a second — wondering what the chances were that either of her parents would come home early — then lifted his shirt with both hands, guiding it up his arms and over his head. It was her favorite indulgence; holding herself against his bare chest. He was always so warm — even in the summer, when her body temperature was almost as high as his. She loved to feel the heat spread into her from everywhere that touched him, slowly seeping through her until her whole body was pleasantly warmed, her foot lazily looped over his leg.

Her eyes were closed, waiting for his next kiss, and after a few seconds, she opened them. David was staring down at her, a half smile on his face, but his eyes were serious. “I love you,” he said.

She smiled, loving hearing those words. Every time he said it, it sounded like the first time.

“Hey, Miss Fae.”

Laurel grinned as she walked down the stairs. Her dad had started calling her that after he had come home from the hospital. They’d always been close, but after almost losing him last year, it felt like every minute counted double. And even though his insatiable curiosity about all things faerie drove her up the wall sometimes, she loved how easily he accepted her for what she was.

“How was the first day of school?”

Laurel wandered over to the couch by way of the fridge, where she grabbed herself a Sprite. “It was okay. Better than last year. And I think I’m more prepared for chemistry than I was for biology.”

“Sounds like an overall improvement,” he said, looking up from his book.

“What are you reading?” she asked, glancing at the dog-eared paperback.

He looked a little chagrined. “Stardust.”

“Again?”

He shrugged. Fantasy novels — especially ones involving faeries — had risen to the top of her dad’s reading list, with Neil Gaiman’s faerie tale numbering among his very favorites.

“Where’s Mom?” Laurel asked, though she could guess at the answer.

“Taking inventory,” came the expected reply. “She’s got to get her order in tomorrow.”

“I figured,” Laurel said.

Her dad looked up into her somber face and put his book down. “You okay?”

She shrugged. Her dad sat up a little and patted the spot beside him. Laurel sighed and joined him on the couch, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. It’s just…it’s kind of weird to suddenly have you around more than Mom. She’s at the store all the time.”

His arm tightened around her. “She’s just busy right now. Starting up a store takes a lot of work. You remember last summer when I was getting the bookstore going. I was never home.” He chuckled. “In fact, if I had been home more, I like to think I would have figured things out.” He paused and squeezed Laurel’s shoulders again. “You have to understand, when I…got sick, your mom felt completely helpless. We had almost no insurance, the hospital bills were piling up, and if anything had happened she would have had no way to support you. She’s never quite gotten the knack of running my store. She might have been able to make ends meet, but only just. She’s afraid to ever get into that position again, and let’s face it — we’re not young.” He turned to face her. “She’s doing this for you. So she can support you if anything ever happened again.”

Laurel rubbed her toe along the couch cushion. “But sometimes I think…” She paused, then hurried on in a rush of breath before she could change her mind. “She hates that I’m a faerie.”

Her dad scooted up a little. “What do you mean?”

After the first sentence, the rest tumbled out. “Everything started to change when she found out. She acts like she doesn’t know me anymore — like I’m a stranger living in her house. We don’t talk. We used to talk all the time, about everything. And now I feel like she avoids my eyes and leaves the room when I come in.”

“Sweetie, you need to give her a little time to get the store open. I really think—”

“It was before the store,” Laurel interrupted, shaking her head. “She doesn’t like to hear anything about me not being normal. When I got the invitation to go to Avalon I was so excited — the chance of a lifetime. And she almost didn’t let me go!”

“In all fairness, that was because of the ‘gone for two months with complete strangers’ thing, not necessarily the faerie thing.”

“Still,” Laurel persisted. “I hoped that maybe things would change while I was gone. That maybe it would be easier to get used to the idea when I wasn’t around, always putting it in front of her face. But nothing’s changed,” she said in a quiet voice. “If anything, it’s gotten worse.”

Her dad thought for a moment. “I don’t know why she’s having such a hard time dealing with this, Laurel,” he said haltingly. “She just doesn’t understand. This has knocked her whole worldview off-kilter. It may take some time. I’m just asking you to be patient.”

Laurel took a long, shuddering breath. “She barely even hugged me when I got back. I’m trying to be patient, but it’s like she doesn’t even like me anymore.”

“No, Laurel,” her dad said, holding her to his chest as she blinked back tears. “It’s not like that, I promise. It’s not about you; it’s about her trying to wrap her mind around the idea that faeries exist at all.” He looked Laurel full in the face. “But she loves you,” he said firmly. “She loves you every bit as much as she ever did. I promise.” He leaned his cheek against the top of her head. “Would you like me to talk to her?”

Laurel shook her head instantly. “No, please don’t. She doesn’t need more stuff to worry about.” She forced a smile. “I’ll just give her some time — be patient, like you said. Things will go back to normal soon, right?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a grin and an enthusiasm Laurel couldn’t match.

When Laurel stood and wandered back toward the kitchen, her dad picked up his book again. She knelt by the side of the fridge and began loading more cans of Sprite into the refrigerator door. “Normal,” she scoffed under her breath. “Right.”

She looked up at the leftovers packed away in tidy Tupperwares in the fridge. “Hey, Dad, have you had dinner yet?” she asked.

“Um…no?” he said sheepishly. “I meant to just read the first chapter, but I got carried away.”

“Big surprise,” Laurel drawled. “Can I make you something?”

“You don’t need to do that,” her dad said, standing up from the couch and stretching. “I can nuke my own leftovers.”

“No, I want to,” Laurel said. “I do.”

Her dad looked at her strangely.

“Just sit. I gotta run up to my room. I’ll be down in a sec.”

As she headed for the stairs, her dad shrugged and slipped into his chair at the kitchen table, opening his book up again.

Laurel grabbed her kit, forcing herself not to look at the latest batch of shattered sugar-glass vials strewn across her desk, and hurried back downstairs. There was a Tupperware of stir-fry and noodles, one of her dad’s favorites. That would work. She opened her kit up beside the stove, dumped the stir-fry into a small saucepan, and lit a burner.

Laurel’s dad looked up as the pan clanked onto the stove. “You don’t need to do that,” he said. “The microwave works just fine.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to do something special.”

Her dad raised an eyebrow. “Special like how?”

“You’ll see,” Laurel said, waving her fingers in the steam rising from the pan as the sauce started to bubble.

She didn’t want to change the flavor — this wasn’t like just adding spices. She wanted to enhance the flavor that was already there. Her teachers in Avalon had told her repeatedly that if she was familiar with the plant, and trusted her intuition, she could do almost anything. This should be easy. Right?

She relaxed and closed her eyes — glad that the stove wasn’t facing the kitchen table — and soon the parts of the food seemed to come alive on her fingers, bathed in the vapor. She cocked her head to the side, feeling the garlic and soy, the ginger and pepper.

Crocus, she said to herself. Crocus oil and a touch of sage. That will bring out the garlic and ginger. She concentrated, feeling like there was one more thing she should add to make it perfect. Stonewort, she finally decided. Probably because it had high levels of starch that would emphasize the soy. And, well, pepper was pepper. It would be strong enough on its own.

She reached into her kit for a small mortar. She put in a few drops of crocus oil and a pinch of sage. The stonewort, however, came in a very small bottle with a tiny sprayer on it that would dispense less than a drop. Laurel sprayed a mist of stonewort into the stone bowl, considered, then sprayed once more. Using her pestle, she crushed the tiny sage seeds, mixing the three essences until the smell changed just a little. She turned the bowl over and let a couple of green speckled drops fall onto the bubbling noodles. A foamy vapor rose up, clearing as Laurel stirred the food, the extra drops blending into the brown sauce.

“Bon appétit,” Laurel said, placing the meal in front of her dad with flourish.

He looked up from his book a little startled. “Oh. Thanks.”

Laurel smiled, then went back around to the stove to begin cleaning up. She kept sneaking glances at him, wondering if he would notice without her saying anything.

She didn’t have to wait very long.

“Wow, Laurel, this is good!” her dad said. “I guess stovetop really is better than microwave.” He ate with vigor and Laurel smiled, irrationally proud that something had actually worked after messing up on so many things the last few weeks.

“Did you add something to this?” her dad asked after wolfing down about half the plate. “Because teriyaki has never tasted so good.” He paused and put another forkful in his mouth. “And I had it two days ago when it was fresh,” he said around the noodles.

Laurel turned with a conspiratorial smile on her face. “I may have added a little something to it,” she said.

“Well, you gotta tell your mom because this is the most amazing stir-fry I have ever had.”

Laurel grinned as she turned and put the pan and Tupperware in the sink and started running some warm water. She put her rubber gloves on, then began cleaning the two dishes. “See, this is what I wish Mom would understand,” Laurel said, her voice just audible above the running water. “The things I can do, they aren’t just for faeries, I can do stuff for you guys too. Make your food taste better, for example, in ways no one else can. And I make great vitamins. My version of vitamin C is awesome.” She shut off the water after rinsing the few dishes. “Or it will be, once I get it right. I just wish Mom could see that I’m no different from how I was before. I didn’t become a faerie, I’ve always been a faerie. I’m still the same person. I mean, you realize that,” she said, turning around. “Is it—” Her mouth fell open.

Her dad was asleep — snoring softly — with his cheek sitting in the last few bites of stir-fry.

“Dad?” Laurel walked over and touched his shoulder. When he didn’t respond she shook him, lightly at first, and then harder. What did I do! She was halfway up the stairs after the small blue bottle of healing tonic when she remembered all the uses of stonewort. She slumped down on the stairs and recalled the passage from her textbook. Should you ever need it, a sprinkle of stonewort will put any animal into a deep sleep. Not instantaneous but perfect for escapes when you have ample time. Until now, Laurel hadn’t applied any of the things she’d learned about plant uses for animals to her parents. But technically, that’s what they were.

Slowly, Laurel stood and returned to the kitchen. Her father was snoring louder now. Grabbing a washcloth, she carefully lifted his head and cleaned the sticky sauce from his cheek. Then she slid Stardust under his hands and laid his head back down onto his arms. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen asleep reading. At the kitchen table was a new one, but she suspected no one would ask questions. He had been working hard lately.

She took the plate to the kitchen and scraped the remaining stir-fry into the trash. She’d have to wash the plate too. Couldn’t have her mom finding out just how badly she’d screwed up while trying to show off. After stowing the plate in the cabinet, Laurel took one more look at her father, snoring away at the table. She hoped he would wake up in the morning. She had no idea what she would do if he didn’t.

“I am the lamest faerie ever.”