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The first card flew out of the deck.
“Two of Pentacles. This is kind of atake the bad with the goodsituation. Highs and lows. Light and darkness.”
I shuffled again, asking for clarification and got the… five of pentacles? Okay. “So, this tells me, basically the lows indicate your death. Your family’s going to suffer a tremendous loss, Jim. I hope you know how much you mean to all of us.”
He nodded and I continued pulling cards, the deck itself wanting me to keep going.
“Temperance. That’s more about balance. Think… the scales of justice.”
“That about my drinking? I’ve spent a lifetime on call. Cancer or no cancer, now that I’m finally retired, I’m enjoying a beer or two every now and again without feeling guilty.”
“Hmm. I don’t think it’s about that. Did you know in Ancient Egyptian mythology, the heart provided a record of a person’s life? Every bad deed caused the heart to grow heavier, while good deeds made it lighter. After a Pharaoh’s death, the gods, Anubis and Thoth, would weigh his or her heart against a feather from the goddess of truth and justice, Ma’at. If the heart was any heavier than that feather, they wouldn’t be received into the afterlife.”
“Guess that doesn’t bode well for me, then.”
I stared into his thin, pale face, his cerulean eyes, his strong nose and wide mouth, really taking notice of all the physical qualities he’d passed down to his kids. His was a good face, but he was an even better person. “Jim, for you, I think a feather would upend the scales.”
“Five of Wands. I’m getting a power struggle. There’s stubborn resistance coming from somewhere.
“Um… I don’t quite know how to interpret this. Nine of Wands. More… resistance? More struggle? Does this ring true for you, Jim? I’m sorry, but I’m not seeing this for you. Maybe I need clarity.Maybe I’ve lost my touch.” I pulled out the little white book that came with the deck. I rarely needed it and only carried it for emergencies. I flipped through it, wondering what I’d missed.
“Have you read the cards for yourself lately? My energy’s not the only one in the room.”
I gasped. For someone who claimed to be nonmagical, Jim was incredibly perceptive. “You think this is about Gus and me?”
“He told me there’s a job waiting for you in Knoxville.”
I groaned. “I don’t want it. He’s the one who keeps pressuring me to take the meeting. I don’t even want to interview. Gus is my home now. No job will tear me away from my commitment.”
“He doesn’t want you to pass up this chance for him. He loves you.”
“I think I know that. He’s just scared to show it. There’s a lot at stake if we find out we’re incompatible now. He doesn’t want to risk it. I understand that. I understand him. Even when he frustrates me. You raised a good man, Jim.” I stood to leave and placed my hand over his. “Actually…” I smiled. “You raised three amazing human beings. Most of my best friends. I owe you so much.”
He covered my hand with his. “How about this…” he said. “You sneak me up another beer before Raynie sees you, and we call it square.”
Decca, All Saints’ Day
I didn’t mean tocreate such an elaborate spell, but one intention had led to another and another, and pretty soon, all my spiritual knowledge sort of snowballed into this insane, foolhardy… kitchen sinkthing.
I’d visited Jim earlier today, but Gus was there now, and regardless of how good Jim looked, it would hit my husband hard knowing his father had entered hospice. Gus would need support when he got home.
I’d made a mess of the kitchen table and the cupboards, taking down every mason jar and plastic baggie filled with herbs. I knew there was mugwort in one of these jars. Sometimes I couldn’t read my own handwriting. Sometimes I didn’t label it at all. But mugwort would sweeten Gus’s dreams tonight, so I had to include it somehow. Maybe I’d powder it and roll the candle around in it.
A tiny bottle tipped over. Lunar oil. Yes! I’d infused it two moon cycles ago. The positive energy of the full moon would double the efficacy of my intentions.
I pulled out the last of the beeswax candles I’d hand dipped with Granny when she’d gotten sick. They were soft and misshapen, and when I touched them, memories of her last days swirled around me. She’d told me I’d have to find new ways to be strong without her, and I had been strong. Now I was sharing whatever strength I had with Gus.
Then there was the string. Granny taught me to measure the afflicted body part with the length of twine or yarn. In the folk tradition, it was knotted a number of times according to a particular ailment before being used in a ritual. But Gus wasn’t here, and I couldn’t measure his heart, so I measured it around my own fist, and knotted it three times for the holy trinity. I put it in a bowl of holy water he’d blessed and placed the whole thing under his bed with some powdered asafetida, but not so much that it would make the room smell likekyarn.
Now, I needed to light the incense. Incense was vital. I found Gus’s church incense, hoping he wouldn’t mind me borrowing his church’s fragrance for a little witchcraft. This was all for his sake, anyway.
I was throwing in every last-ditch effort to help ease his mind and alleviate some of his guilt.
In the kitchen, the candle burned, the incense smoked, and all my energy and intentions for Gus’s visit with his dad—the one where he’d promised he would keep an open mind and try to respect his father’s last wishes—were sent into the atmosphere, directed at my husband.
Dinner was more kitchen witchery. I added a bay leaf along with the onion and apple in the central cavity of a whole chicken. Bay laurel for strength, wisdom, and guidance. Gus would need that in abundance. On second thought, I added two more bay leavesand whole black peppercorns for inner strength, before rubbing seasoned butter under the skin.
The carrots and fennel would caramelize in the oven as the chicken roasted, so all I had left to prepare was the green rice.
