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I didn’t need to follow my Grandma’s recipe to make piecrust—I could make it in my sleep. People don’t realize what a difference homemade crust makes. The store bought stuff has an odd, metallic aftertaste—at least to me. It also has way too many artificial ingredients and it’s never flaky enough.
I finished the crust, divided it into two and wrapped both halves tightly. Then I put them in the fridge to rest while I got to work on the apples. When I finished peeling, coring, and cutting them—it took a long time—I squeezed some lemon juice over them and mixed in the sugar and all the spices but the cinnamon, which I was still waiting for. I put them in the refrigerator next to the wine and the crust and started looking through the cabinets for the biggest pie plate I could find.
Luckily, Grandma had a really big one—like twice the size of a regular pie dish. I figured that this one must be “Creature-sized.” She’d probably kept it on hand just to make pies for Rath, who seemed to have been a little bit like her honorary Grandson there at the end.
That would also explain the big, heavy chair at the dining room table that had puzzled me so much yesterday. None of the other chairs would hold the Orc’s muscular weight, I was sure. Grandma must have gone out of her way to get some furniture Rath could sit on while he was visiting her.
I was glad that she’d had company near the end of her life—I just wished I had been there too. I still didn’t understand why my mother had taken me away—or why she felt it was necessary to bind me and bind my magic. (Again, assuming I had any magic.)
It seemed like a cruel thing to do but my Mom hadn’t been cruel. She’d been loving and kind and patient with me. I remembered how she had gone to the school and fought for me, refusing to let the teachers punish me for my inability to speak in class. And she had cried with me too, and held me when I came home upset because I’d been bullied for being mute. Surely she wouldn’t have caused my mutism herself—would she?
I had too many questions and not enough answers, I decided as I put the oversized pie plate on the kitchen table along with a rolling pin I had found in the upper cabinet. Thank goodness I’d made a double batch of pie crust!
Somehow the day had slipped away and the next thing I knew, I heard a knocking on the front door.
“Coming!” I called, suddenly wishing I was wearing something more flattering than yoga pants and a t-shirt. But I could change once I got the pie in the oven, I told myself.
I went to get the door and Sebastian came with me. He hissed and arched his back when I opened the front door and Rath was standing there.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Sebastian is still upset about yesterday, I think,” I said, feeling embarrassed.
“It’s okay—I don’t blame your familiar for being upset,” Rath said.
To my surprise, he went down on one knee right there in the doorway, clearly trying to get more on Sebastian’s level.
“Hey, Sebastian,” he rumbled softly, holding out a hand for my cat. “I’m really sorry about yesterday—I thought you and Sarah were trespassing. Now I know the two of you belong here and I promise, I would never hurt either one of you. In fact, I’ll protect you along with the house if you’ll let me.”
Sebastian stopped hissing and seemed to consider the big Orc carefully for a long moment. Then he stretched his neck forward and sniffed delicately at Rath’s fingers.
I waited silently, watching with great interest. I had always treated Sebastian like a sentient and self-aware person because…well, because he was. He was smarter than any animal I had ever seen and he definitely understood me when I talked, even though he couldn’t speak back to me. But I had never had anyone else—besides my mom—treat my cat the way I did—like he was an intelligent person worthy of respect rather than just a dumb animal.
After sniffing Rath’s hand, Sebastian looked up at him and gave him a slow blink—the cat sign of approval. Then he butted his head against Rath’s fingers.
“There we go…now we’re on the same page,” Rath rumbled and gently stroked Sebastian from head to tail. “Thank you for accepting my apology.”
Sebastian purred loudly, accepting a few more pets, before turning and pacing back into the house with his tail held high.
“Wow—that was impressive,” I remarked as Rath straightened up to his full height. He rose smoothly—he was graceful despite his size, I thought.
“Thanks. I know the way to a witch’s heart is through her familiar.” He grinned at me. “If you can’t win over the cat—or whatever companion animal she has—you can just forget it.”
Was he saying he was trying to win my heart? My pulse sped up but I tried to cover my confusion.
“I’m not a witch—I don’t even know if I really have magic yet—remember?” I said lightly.
“Oh, you’ve got magic,” he said confidently. “Your Grandmother was sure of it and she was never wrong about that kind of thing. You just need to find it.”
“We’ll see, I guess.” I shrugged. “Come on in—did you bring the cinnamon? I’m just about ready to put the pie in the oven.”
“Great! Got it right here.” He handed me a bag and I found a large container of expensive cinnamon inside.
“Oh—you got the good stuff,” I remarked as I headed for the kitchen.
“Nothing but the best for your Grandma’s apple pie,” Rath said cheerfully, following me.
He watched with interest as I added the cinnamon, rolled out the crust, and added the filling. After I crimped the edges of the crust together, I brushed the whole thing with egg wash and sprinkled a generous amount of the sanding sugar on top.
“Thank you for this,” I said, as I sprinkled. “I would have forgotten all about it.”
