April 8th, 2015
|06:50 am - Installment Story, Part Five: Tea History Magic|
It has been a difficult couple of days -- Master Danger having to go to the vet yesterday being just part of it. (He should be fine.) But I've had a good time thinking about what comes next in Melinda Jane's and Jake's story, and so....
Last line was Water and fire, and a thing of power thieved from death..
“Jake,” she said. It was an imperative.
He pulled his chair closer to hers, never breaking their connection. “The thing is, Melinda Jane, you’re not just a magic practi—I mean, a witch. You’re a Carr who’s a witch. And according to Granddad Louis, that matters.”
“Because of what your ancestor did in 1777. How he saved mine, and what was left, and what Granddad Louis thought you might have that’s still around.”
Melinda Jane had been tutored in Carr genealogy by her mother, who had cared about such things. Melinda, on the other hand, usually had spent the sessions thinking about cataloging her spell-ingredients or running over the Library of Congress numbers for classification or dreaming about a new dress to make. All she remembered was, “Matthew Carr was…something… in the service of Governor Grant. In St Augustine, there. The Territory was English then.”
“Yes, that’s right. But one night he went up the coast, to right about here – don’t know why, Granddad Louis didn’t say – and came across a storm.”
Candleflame and ocean roar, and a punch of wind rattled the sliding glass doors, even though it had been a calm day.
She said, through a strange knot in her throat, “He was the one bought this land, all those years ago. This house my daddy built, back in the 70s, but it was Carr land.”
“It wasn’t his on the night of the storm,” Jake said. “It was no man’s, or no woman’s, land.”
And she felt truth rise up past that knot in her throat. “It is and was the edge of the sea, and the sea is not safe.”
“The sea is no man’s or no woman’s, either,” Jake said, with the same truth, “and the sea is not safe.”
“Was one of yours out in the storm?” she said.
“Yes.” Jake offered his other hand to her, palm up like an invocation – or his own version of an imperative. She thought of those long fingers at the nape of her neck when they were kissing in the car, thought of the long slow drowning wave of pleasure at his skin on hers. But this was a different day.
On the tea-table, there by Jake’s empty plate, the box he’d brought rattled once.
The charm-bag in her pocket suddenly felt like a thin cloth over hot coals. She dove in, loosened the tie with blind fingers, then pulled out a sprig of rosemary. The air went summer-hot. “For remembrance,” she said, “let’s see what there’s to see,” and then reached out.
They made the connection, palm to palm, with the blessed rosemary between them. They were a circle. They were power.
The sliding glass doors cracked, and the past came in.
And thanks very much to those of you are reading. :)
|Date:||April 8th, 2015 12:23 pm (UTC)|| |
You have such a way with words!
Thank you so much, A.
Hugs and a happy Wednesday!
Whoosh! It's getting powerful around here! "The sea is not safe," indeed!
Thanks for another great installment.
Thank you thank you! Cheers to you. :)
Thank you, and happy Wednesday! :)
Very nice. I like that the dialog is almost hypnotic in cadence...does that make sense?
Thank you -- I was trying for an incantatory effect in those dialogue passages, and I am so pleased it worked for you. :)
Happy evening, T!
|Date:||April 8th, 2015 06:50 pm (UTC)|| |
Thank you, thank you twice! :)
|Date:||April 9th, 2015 12:48 am (UTC)|| |
Loving it! May the rest of the week be more....even keel? Hope His HIghness is feeling better.
Thank you, thank you!
And the young master is a bit better, yes, but sulking about everything. :)
Cheers to you!
And there are the goosebumps!
Thanks so much for your reading, always.
Thank you so much, Stevie! It's a joy to find these comments.