Kitchen Witch

22 | Puzzle Pieces

The sun had been up for some time, beating through the bedroom windows. Charlotte lay with her bedsheets pulled over her head, cocooning from what felt like undeserved warmth. She cursed having forgotten to close the curtains when she firmly shut the window before going to bed. She lay in bed listening to the crows that had gathered in the branches of a nearby tree. Their calls sharply pierced the silence of the morning with an urgency to rouse her out of bed. Charlotte ignored their insistent calls and rolled over, placing a pillow over her head in defiance. She opened one eye and reached for her phone on the bedside table to check the time. The table was littered with half-drunk tea cups, discarded tissues and biscuit crumbs. The home screen displayed 11:34 am; out of habit, she opened the phone, and her notifications popped up, showing a series of missed texts and phone calls from Sarah. She felt a little guilty ignoring them but didn't have the energy to respond. What she had been agonizing over were the two texts from Riley.

Had a great time with ya the other night. Was thinking

how 'bout I fix up your first lobster feed? Water

was rough today but we took in a good haul. Let

me know if that sounds good.

Haven't heard from you, hopin' all's well with you.

Give me a shout when you get a chance, alright?

Take care.

Charlotte wanted so badly to reach out, to hear his grumbly voice. But she was sure he must have heard by now what Ethel had seen. What would he think of her now? She hadn't heard anything since his last text, but then again, she hadn't responded. Charlotte clicked on his last text and began to type and then erased it, started again and erased it. Looking up at Charlie, she said to no one, "There really isn't any point in this–" She looked toward the window as if expecting to see/hear the wind outside waiting for her, but it was remarkably still outside. "Never ends well."

She was about to put the phone back on the cluttered nightstand when it rang. Startled, Charlotte looked down, expecting to see Sarah's name on the screen. Charlotte's heart stopped mid-beat; it was Martha.

Charlotte paced the main floor of the little yellow house, arranging and rearranging knick-knacks and fluffing pillows. She had run a broom through twice already, thanks to Charlie's warm weather shed. She'd been tempted to use her magic to magically Roomba the floor, but since that day with Ethel, she had turned her back on magic. Like a dieter after their last overdose of chocolate, she had sworn off magic. After Maratha's call, she had finally managed to leave her bedroom, but she had purposely avoided the apothecary and, despite the warmer weather, had left all the windows in the house firmly shut. Like a lover's argument, she had slammed the door on her magic. She couldn't avoid going outside altogether; that wouldn't have been fair to Charlie. So they still took their daily beach walks, although Charlie seemed a little sluggish and didn't go out as far on his sniff adventures. Perhaps he was skittish about the rather large grouping of blackbirds that had taken up station by the beach. Even the brazen sea gulls had seemed to have retreated. The weather had also been oddly calm of late, with barely a breeze in the air. 

Charlotte didn't mind one bit.

Charlotte's phone dinged, and a message from Martha popped up indicating that she had just crossed the bridge, had made it through the checkpoint showing her vaccination status and was an hour and a half away. Martha was on the island and would soon be here. Charlotte felt a squeeze on her heart, feeling lighter already. Martha had finally reached out after all those months since her son's passing. In typical Maratha fashion, she had started the conversation off as if nothing of note had taken place since they last spoke, asking her about island life. Charlotte had, of course, kept it light, talking about the beauty of the island but leaving out anything to do with the apothecary and certainly magic. Charlotte waited patiently to see if Martha would open up. When Maratha asked about her tea business and how things were going, Charlotte got quiet and glossed over the topic. Martha must have picked up on something being wrong and first opened up about her loss. Charlotte listened with tears streaming down her face as the weight of her friends' words laden with grief were laid bare. After bearing witness to her heartache, Charlotte had invited her to come stay with her. She described the beauty of the island, with its healing ocean views. Charlotte was unsure if she agreed because of her own desire or because she knew Charlotte also needed her, but she was coming.