Page 5 of A Time of Witches

Kate Chopin’s The Awakening always blossomed in her thoughts during such moments. “The bird that would soar above the level plain of tradition and prejudice must have strong wings.”

Only she didn’t have strong wings. She had little chicken wings, plucked bald by Mama.

Being a godmother was as close to motherhood as Lilith cared to be. And before Mama got sick, Lilith’s pathetic time at Georgia State University had only amounted to wasted money and precious few passed classes. Mama was right, she didn’t have the chops for pre-law.

But without Mama to care for, without school to attend, Lilith was unmoored, floating through life without purpose.

Essie patted Lilith’s hand and took a deep breath, as if she meant to say something, but decided against it.

“What?” Lilith asked.

Indecision crossed Essie’s features. “I have a suggestion, but it’s…”

“It’s what?”

“Woo-woo.”

Lilith cut a side glance at her friend.

“I know, I know.” Essie held out her hands, palms up in acknowledgment. “There’s a fortune teller on Montgomery Street.”

Lilith immediately shook her head. “You know how I feel about that.”

That.

The supernatural.

Magic.

“Because your mama made you feel that way.” Essie’s expression softened. “She’s gone now, Lilith. Maybe you should lean into it a little more. Remember how when you first told me about the honeysuckle, how you thought there might be purpose in it? That all this weirdness happening to you is like the world trying to tell you something?”

Lilith rolled her eyes before sliding a grin toward Essie. “I really should stop oversharing with you.”

But the playful comment didn’t put Essie off. Not when she knew Lilith so well.

Essie glanced around before speaking in a whisper. “Do you remember how the wind would pick up when you were mad? How you always knew the moon was out, even if we weren’t near a single window?”

Lilith scoffed. “We were kids, hopped up on stories like Bayou Magic and sneak watching The Craft. Which, by the way, we really were way too young to be watching. Our imaginations were on overdrive.”

“Oh, we were definitely too young to be watching The Craft.” Essie gave a wicked grin. “But it wasn’t just our imaginations.” Her smile slipped away. “What about that honeysuckle growing back as soon as your mama died? What about how you said you can hear the earth? What about… What about your daddy?”

The pain at those words was as fresh and raw as a decade before when Daddy had gone to work and never come home. When Mama had blamed her.

Essie pulled out her phone, glossy nails catching the light as her fingers flew over the screen. Lilith’s phone vibrated in her back pocket.

Essie casually slid her phone back into her purse. “I just sent you the link for the store.”

Lilith pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen with a groan. “‘Enchanted’? Really?”

“Those dreams don’t sound natural, and there is a part of yourself you’ve been denying your whole life.” Essie shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe it’s time to explore now that your mama isn’t here to stop you.”

Before Lilith could argue again, story time ended, and Essie was already helping Amara into her stroller. A quick hug later and they were gone, bumping through the doorway, Cheerios sprinkling out like confetti. Not to be seen again until story time next Saturday.

A young woman approached Lilith with a book in hand. “Can you ring me up, please?”

She handed Lilith a copy of Practical Magic, the very title she and Essie had pored over their freshman year in high school. The cover was warm, a slight unmistakable tingle against her fingertips.

Recognition stirred, delicate as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. Maybe it was nothing. But maybe it was everything.