“Um, sure.” The worried-looking waitress disappeared into the kitchen, and the two of them gazed at each other. One of those uncomfortable silences set in.
“So…” they said at the same time and laughed.
“You first,” Bruce said.
“No, you. I insist.”
“All right. Your profile didn’t say much about you. What do you do for a living?” he asked.
Gaia shrugged. “This and that. Whatever comes my way.”
“Interesting. I’m not sure what that means, but if you don’t want to tell me yet, that’s fine.”
“I wouldn’t know how to put it any other way. How about you? What do you do?”
“I write books and teach classes in Wicca. I have small groups I train.”
“And that pays the bills?”
“Not completely. I also contribute items on consignment to a local store that carries working tools.”
“Tools? Like saws and hammers?”
He laughed. “No. Tools ofthe craft. The craft of Wicca.”
He obviously thought she had no idea what he was talking about. And truthfully, she didn’t. This man puzzled her.
“What kind of tools do you need to be Wiccan?”
“I can see you don’t know much about my religion. That’s okay. I love to teach, and perhaps you’d like to join one of my classes someday. We worship the Goddess and God as her consort, but you can press pause on that, if it makes you uncomfortable.”
It was all Gaia could do not to giggle, though she might have been smirking.
He cleared his throat. “To answer your question, some of the tools I sell are magic wands, crystal balls, stone jewelry with metaphysical properties, capes I embroider, and staffs I whittle myself.”
“Wait a minute…magic wands?”
“Oh yes. We use those in our rituals. In the very beginning, we open the circle by casting energy clockwise while surrounding ourselves with protective light. And then at the end of the ritual, we open the circle by casting the energy counterclockwise.”
All this was confusing to Gaia. She had dropped in on some of those rituals, since they often called on her specifically, but she just didn’t understand all the rigmarole that went with it. “So what else is involved in a ritual?”
“Well, we all write down our intentions in the form of spells, recite and burn them so the energy rises to the heavens, and we bring offerings to the Goddess.”
Her back straightened. “Really? What kinds of offerings?”
“Usually wine and some kind of sweets. Small honey cakes or bakery items she might enjoy. But of course, at the end of the ritual, we eat them ourselves.”
She laughed. “You have an interesting definition of offering a gift. ‘Here’s a yummy cake. Oh no, that’s not for you. I’ll eat it myself, thank you.’”
He smiled. “It’s more of a symbolic thing.”
After a long pause to mull that over, she said, “So tell me about these other tools. You mentioned capes?”
“Yes. Black capes. For protection.”
“Oh, like raincoats?”
“No.”
