Spells

ELEVEN

A WEEK INTO SCHOOL, LAUREL WALKED TOWARD Mark’s Bookshelf with David, her hand in his, their arms swinging in the last warm gasps of summer. With a kiss he peeled off to head to his job at the pharmacy and Laurel opened the door to the bookstore, a cheery chime sounding as she did.

Maddie looked up at her with a broad smile. “Laurel,” she said brightly, the way she did every time she saw her. It was a constant in her life that Laurel loved. No matter what was happening with her parents, or trolls, or Avalon, or whatever, Maddie was always behind the counter at the bookstore, ready with a smile and a hug.

Laurel laughed as Maddie squeezed her tightly. “Where’s my dad?” she asked, looking around.

“In the back,” Maddie said. “Inventory.”

“As usual,” Laurel said, heading toward the swinging doors at the back of the store.

“Hey, Dad,” she said with a smile as he looked up at her. Even though she doubted it was necessary, she’d been watching him closely. He hadn’t come out of his stonewort-induced nap until eight o’clock the following morning. Aside from a sore neck, he seemed unaffected. Her mom had chastised him for both working too hard and staying up too late, but luckily she hadn’t seemed suspicious beyond that. Still, Laurel had stayed out of her parents’ food since then. Better safe than sorry.

She slid onto a chair across from the computer and fingered a small stack of bookmarks.

“How was school?” her dad asked.

“Fine,” Laurel said with a grin. “Easy.” After Avalon, everything seemed easy. Seven hours of school a day? No problem. An hour or two of study each night? Piece of cake. Her trip to Avalon had improved Laurel’s entire attitude toward human schooling. If only they had more skylights.

“Do you need any help today?” Laurel asked, looking around at the back room.

“Not really,” her dad said, standing straight and stretching his back. “Actually, I’ve been catching up on my paperwork, it’s been so slow.” He looked out the small window behind his desk. “Gorgeous day. Apparently people would rather be outside enjoying the weather instead of finding something to read at the stuffy old bookstore.”

“Your store’s not stuffy,” Laurel said with a laugh. She paused for a moment. “Do you think maybe Mom needs some help?” she asked without meeting his eyes.

He looked up at her for a second, then asked casually, “Do you need money?”

Laurel shook her head. “No, I thought…I thought maybe…it could help make things better between us, less tense. Maybe we’ve both been waiting for the other to make the first move,” she said, her voice low.

Her dad paused, his fingers poised above the keyboard. Then he took off his glasses, walked around the desk, and hugged her. “Way to be proactive,” he said in her ear. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks.” Laurel shouldered her backpack and turned to wave just before heading toward the front of the store. She took a deep breath, forced herself not to hesitate any longer, and walked next door to Nature’s Cure. In the weeks since Laurel returned from Avalon she’d only been in her mom’s store a few times, and the attention to detail never failed to impress her. She pushed the front door open and instead of a mechanical chime, the corner of the door hit a small silver bell that tinkled softly. Potted plants filled the windowsills, and a serenity fountain gurgled in the corner where it sat in a small Zen garden. There were even sparkly crystal prisms strung up in the window. Laurel took a moment to touch one, pleased that her mother had taken a decoration idea from Laurel’s room to use at her store. Despite the current tension with her mom, Laurel suspected she would enjoy working here even more than at the bookstore — which was saying something.

Laurel turned as her mom came through a bead curtain from the back room, lugging a large box. Her face was a little red and she was breathless. “Oh, Laurel, it’s you. Good. I can put this down for a second.” She plopped the large box down in the middle of the floor and wiped her brow. “You’d think they would send this stuff in smaller boxes. So what did you need?” her mom asked, bending over and sliding the box across the floor instead of lifting it.

“I just came to see if you needed help. Things are slow next door,” she added, and then wished she hadn’t. She didn’t want her mom to feel like her second choice.

“Oh,” her mom said, smiling in a way that at least looked genuine. “That would be perfect. I’m stocking today and I can always use an extra hand.” She laughed. “Your dad gets employees; I’m not to that point yet.”

“Great,” Laurel said, shedding her backpack and coming to stand by the new shipment. Her mom explained the contents of the box — most of which Laurel was familiar with from years of living with a naturopath — and then showed her the system of tags on the shelves that she could match with the bottles and boxes.

“I’m going to go fill out the invoice and start preparing my order for next week, but you just holler if you need any help, okay?”

“I will,” Laurel said, and smiled. Her mom smiled back. So far, so good.

Laurel was surprised by how many of the elements in the herbal remedies she could remember from her summer of intense study. The note cards were worth it. As Laurel pulled the different items out of boxes and placed them on their appropriate shelves she recited their uses in her head. Comfrey, use as an oil to calm inflammation, reduce the life span of weeds, and for the eyes when sight is failing. Winter savory, for clarity of mind and sleeplessness. Also good for koi, if you add it to their water. Promotes oxygenation. Raspberry leaf tea, for seedlings who refuse to eat. Add plenty of sugar to increase the nutritional value. Energizing when you have to be up late at night.

She particularly liked sorting the homeopathics, which were completely safe for faerie consumption since they were generally preserved in sugar, but almost always did the opposite thing for humans as for faeries. St. Ignatius Bean, for example, could be used as a remedy against grief for humans. For faeries, it was used as a sedative. And white bryony would reduce fevers in humans, but for faeries it was extremely effective in staving off freezing. Tamani had told her that the sentries who guarded the gate in Japan drank a cold tea made from white bryony every day during the winter months, when it could get very cold in the high mountains.

Thinking of Tamani distracted Laurel for a while and her hand was still — clutched around a cylinder of Natrum muriaticum — for almost a minute before her mom walked over and pulled her from her thoughts.

“Everything okay, Laurel?”

“What? Oh, yeah,” she mumbled, looking up at her mom before bending back down to grab more cylinders from a small box. “Just lost in thought.”

“Okay,” her mom said, looking at her a little funny. She turned, then stopped for a second. “Thanks for coming in to help out,” she said. “I appreciate it.” She put one arm around Laurel and hugged her sideways. It was an awkward hug, the kind you give someone when you’d rather just shake their hand. An obligatory kind of hug.

The phone rang, and with a hollow longing in her chest Laurel watched her mom walk back up to the register. It was strange to miss someone who was standing right in front of her, but that was how Laurel felt. She missed her mom.

“Excuse me,” said a voice just behind her.

Laurel turned to see an older woman she vaguely recognized from town. “Yes?”

“Could you help me?”

Laurel looked up toward her mom, who was still on the phone. She turned back to the woman. “I can sure try,” she said with a smile.

“I need something for my headaches. I’ve been taking Advil, but it’s not helping as much anymore. I think my body’s getting used to it.”

“That happens,” Laurel said, nodding sympathetically.

“I want something a little more natural. But effective, too,” she added.

Laurel was trying to remember what it was she had put on the shelves just a few minutes earlier. She had held the small bottle for several seconds, wondering if she should get some for herself — with the stress of the last few months, Laurel had more than a few headaches of her own. She moved an aisle over and found the bottle. “Here,” she said, handing it to the woman. “It is a little pricey”—she pointed to the price tag—“but it will be so worth it. I’m considering getting some for myself. It will be much better than Advil.”

The woman smiled. “Thanks. It’s certainly worth a try.”

She carried the bottle up to the register as Laurel went back to sorting homeopathics. After a minute Laurel’s mom led the woman over to Laurel’s display and, after a pointed look at Laurel, grabbed one of the green cylinders. “This will work much better,” she said. “It’s cyclamen, and I’ve given it to my husband for years for his migraines. Works like a dream.” As they were walking back up to the register Laurel’s mom explained how to use the homeopathic pilules and soon the woman was on her way.

Her mom stood by the door for a few seconds to wave at the woman, then walked toward Laurel. “Laurel,” she started, and Laurel could hear the frustration she was holding carefully in check, “if you don’t know what to recommend, come get me. Don’t just pull random bottles off the shelf. I wish you had waited for me to finish my phone call. These people are looking for help, and all of these herbs work very differently.”

Laurel felt like a little child being scolded by an adult who was being very careful not to hurt her feelings. “I didn’t just pull a random bottle,” Laurel protested. “That stuff’s really good for headaches. I picked it on purpose.”

“Really?” her mom said dryly. “Somehow I don’t think it’s that kind of headache.”

“What?”

“Pausinystalia johimbe? Do you even know what Pausinystalia johimbe is marketed for? It’s a male-enhancement herb.”

“Eww, gross!” Laurel said, repulsed now by her thought that she should get a bottle for herself. She knew most herbs affected faeries differently, but that was just wrong!

“Exactly. I only carry it because there’s a guy who came in last week and asked if I could special-order it. There’s something I didn’t need to know about my sixty-year-old banker,” she added.

“I’m sorry,” Laurel said genuinely. “I didn’t know.”

“I don’t expect you to. But that’s what I’m here for. I’m really glad you came in to help, but handing out sex pills for headaches isn’t helping. You need to ask for advice when you need it, Laurel. You could potentially kill someone by giving them the wrong herbs, depending on their health conditions. Please think about that next time.”

“I did think,” Laurel retorted, suddenly angry at her mom’s attitude. “It would have helped me!” she added impulsively.

Laurel’s mom sighed heavily and turned away.

“I got mixed up,” Laurel said, following behind her. “I forget that herbs don’t work the same for humans as for fae. I just made a little mistake.”

“Laurel, not now, please.” She walked around to the other side of the counter.

“Why not now?” Laurel said, slapping her hands down on the counter. “When? At home? Because you don’t ever want to talk about me being a faerie there, either.”

“Laurel, lower your voice.” Her mother’s voice was sharp — a clear warning to watch her tongue.

“I just want to talk, Mom. That’s all. And I know this isn’t the ideal place, but I can’t wait for ideal anymore. I’m tired of what’s been happening to us. We used to be friends. Now you never want to hear anything about my faerie life. You don’t even like to look at me anymore! Your eyes slide right by me. It’s been months, Mom.” Tears welled up in her throat. “When are you going to get used to me?”

“That’s ridiculous, Laurel,” her mom said, raising her eyes to meet Laurel’s as if to prove her wrong.

“Is it?”

Laurel’s mom held her gaze for a few seconds and Laurel saw something change in her eyes. For just a second, she thought her mom would give — would really talk to her. But then she blinked and cleared her throat and it was gone. Her mom looked down and began sifting through receipts on the counter. “I can put the rest of the homeopaths away later,” she said quietly. “You can go.”

Feeling as though she’d been slapped, Laurel stood still, dazed. Her mom had dismissed her. After taking a couple of quick breaths, Laurel spun on her heel and opened the door, the cheerful bell mocking her.

A strong gust of wind hit her in the face as the door closed, and Laurel realized she had no idea where to go. David was working; Chelsea was at cross-country practice. Her next instinct was to go talk to her dad, and she even got as far as putting her hand on the door handle before she stopped. It wasn’t fair to pit her parents against each other, to run to one when the other had hurt her feelings. She stood just out of sight, behind a big poster announcing the newest Nora Roberts novel, and watched her dad and Maddie help a customer with a big stack of books. The man said something Laurel couldn’t hear, and her dad threw back his head and laughed as he wrapped the books in tissue paper while Maddie looked on with a gentle smile.

After one last look at her dad, Laurel turned away and headed to her empty house.