Kitchen Witch

23 | Consent

Riley hadn't heard back from Charlotte in days. It didn't seem like her to do so, and they had clicked so well together at the ceilidh. But maybe he was missing something; maybe he had been too forward when he kissed her that night. "God, what a kiss," he hadn't kissed someone like that since, well, never. He had felt completely lost in her mouth, her breath, and her eyes. It hadn't taken all of his gentlemanly control not to suggest that she come over to his place. And that took a lot of control as he hadn't had an encounter like that in well years. He had thought she had felt the same way. Her body certainly had responded the same way as he recalled her pushing her hips into his legs and her arms wrapping around his neck to pull herself up closer if it hadn't been for the distraction of fellow patrons leaving, who knows where they would have ended up.

So why hadn't she texted him back? He had reread them a million times over to see if perhaps he had said something wrong. But he didn't think so. He was feeling more than a little worried that something was wrong, especially since he had caught the rushed end of conversations around town that seemed to be talking about Charlotte and well– it was just plain crazy. He was pulling into Harbour Haven Market to check in with Sarah and sort out what was going on. There were a few parked cars in the lot when he parked. The bells chimed as he walked in, spotting Sarah standing at the counter, looking annoyed. He headed over towards the cash and passed a fellow fisherman, Rob, and his wife, Margaret.

"Some weather we are having," Riley offered in greeting.

Rob went to speak, but his wife shot him an icy look and took him by the elbow, leading him out the door. Taken aback, Riley walked up to Sarah. "Well –that wasn't like Margaret?"

"The better question is, who hasn't that dreadful woman Ethel Higgins swayed."

Riley felt even more confused. "I'm not sure what's going on, Sarah; I just came in because I'm worried about Charlotte. Have you heard from her?"

The market doors chimed, signalling that the last customer had left, and Sarah walked out from behind the counter. "Let's get a coffee and chat." Sarah led the way to the back of the store, stopping at the little coffee bar she had set up. It wasn't Starbucks fancy, and she hadn't gone to the easy plastic pod setup either. She had an old; some might consider it a vintage drip machine. They really didn't make them that well nowadays. She used beans roasted locally and was strict on setting a timer to keep a freshly brewed pot set out. She poured two cups, one with two creams, one sugar and one dark.

"Well, shit's gone to hell in a handbasket." Sarah blew on her coffee before taking a test sip. "The village self-proclaimed moral police, Ethel Higgins, stopped by Charlotte's the other day–unannounced." She paused for effect. "She saw Charlotte working in her apothecary."

"So, what's wrong with seeing Charlotte working?" As Riley said it, he envisioned the strange-looking room, packed full of jars and hanging herbs, its strange eclectic character that almost seemed like it fit a movie set about– "the rumours–" The rumours he had had half caught here and there, the way that Margaret had just treated him could they be true. "That's ridiculous. You can't seriously tell me that people believe this stuff!"

"I know it sounds crazy, Riley. I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it myself." Sarah replayed the day she discovered Charlotte's magical talents with wonder and excitement. "She isn't a bad person; she's one of the most caring people I've ever met; just look at what she has done to help everyone. My God, Old Man Murray would still be bedridden if it weren't for her and her talents."

Riley was still having trouble believing what Sarah was saying despite the mental clicks going off in his head, making sense of things that he had simply chosen to ignore. Like the way the wind had changed direction the night of the Nor'easter and pushed them home, clearing the snow drifts. Then there was the obvious: there was no way that just some simple herbs were responsible for curing arthritis, let alone severe degenerative joint disease like Old Man Murray's. Plus, the whole host of other ailments her teas and compounds were being used for. Riley had a sickening feeling that began to build up in his stomach. "They didn't ask for this Sarah. She never asked for their consent to use this magic on them. They have been under her influence without even knowing it." Even as he said it, he felt conflicted, knowing that Charlotte wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone, but she had by not disclosing this. "The bone broth, was there something to that too?" It had kept him unusually warm despite the bitter wind, and he had more energy and focus, too.

"I would imagine so," Sarah said quietly. "But Riley–"

He didn't drink; he didn't smoke, and caffeine was his only vice. He had never wanted to touch the stuff, not after witnessing what it had done to his grandfather and father. Riley got up abruptly, pushing his chair back with a squeak. "I need to think– thank you for letting me know." He turned back, "If you do hear from her, please let her know I was looking to talk with her." He headed out the door and back out to the truck.

He hadn't planned on going out on the water today; with the spring lobster season over, he took tourists out fishing and didn't have anything lined up for the day. Instead, there was work to do repairing traps for the fall season, but the uneasy, conflicted feelings turning over in his stomach were only going to be sorted out on the water. He untied the Keane's Crest from its moorings and pulled away from the harbour.