Of Lorenz Theory & Love

JHMD: Graceful Gowns & Runic Records

42: JHMD: Graceful Gowns & Runic Records

9 am, 2 months before the wedding, Vera Manor, Kitchen

It was five weeks after SafeSpace prom, Harry's proposal, and the surprise engagement party; the wedding was to be in two months, and Macy's stomach was churning with anxiety, knowing she had her work cut out for her. Though Maggie pointed her in the direction of all the classic, modern wedding websites, nothing seemed to fit her image of what she herself ought to look like as a bride.

Some dresses had large, puffy sleeves that screamed the 1840s in style. Other dresses left too little to the imagination, with the undergarments fully visible to anyone who walked past. Macy bookmarked a handful of dresses that she found vaguely intriguing—one was an A-line long, sleeveless ivory-colored gown that reminded her of fairy tale princesses; the other dress looked to be of the 1920s, with its embellished shoulder faux-pearl beading.

Harry walked into the kitchen, kissing Macy as he made a beeline to his canisters of tea and accompanying teacups. He took a double-take of what was on her plate—a slice of toast thinly spread with a layer of crunchy peanut butter—instead of her usual scrambled tofu with veggies. Perhaps it was all of those pre-wedding preparation jitters, he thought to himself, as he boiled water in his signature teakettle and prepared his brew. "Something's different about you," he remarked, observing her curly hair, and exhausted face. "New perfume?"

Macy shook her head. "Just wedding preparation exhaustion. I've been looking at all of these wedding websites trying to find a dress, and none of them, except for two—" she showed Harry the photos—"really speak to me at all."

"You could wear a potato sack and I would still find you the most gorgeous woman on earth," he said in response. Macy laughed, as he continued, stating, "I know you'll look beautiful in whatever gown you choose, Macy."

"I certainly hope so too, Harry. I hope so too."

Noon, SafeSpace Command Center

Macy entered the Command Center, having been instructed to come here by none other than Harry himself. She had no idea what to expect; if he planned for them to go to the Azores, he would have orbed there directly with her, she was certain of that. As it was, she couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of annoyance that she'd been unnecessarily pulled away from her saber-toothed tiger genomic splices, and her wedding dress research.

12:10 pm, SafeSpace Command Center

Just then, Harry orbed to her left, and led her to what she recognized as the Book of Charmed Ones. She rolled her eyes and gave him a look. Was this all? But he shook his head, muttering a few key phrases, causing the pages to turn backward to the 1920s. He beckoned for Macy to come closer, so she did, and gave a start. There, on the topmost page, were her three great-great aunts Darcy, Della, and Dora Valensi—the Charmed Ones of the Azores region, 1920-1940(*). She followed the footnoted asterisk to the bottom of the page, which stated in tiny lettering that the Charmed Ones' unified power broke as a direct result of Darcy Madalena Valensi's going into hiding in Manchester, England. This, Macy knew, was when Darcy had fled the Azores with baby Matias as a direct result of having received the soothsayer's prophecy of death by falling object. How much had Darcy sacrificed of herself—and her sisters—in the process? Pressing onward, reading through the paper-thin parchment's stately calligraphic script, Macy felt chills run down her spine. How many times had Macy read her and her sisters' names in this book, but never thought to look for their ancestors?

Macy examined the entry in careful detail; it was almost like seeing a forefather's name written into the Ellis Island passenger records—except different, in that instead of sorting through 65 million individuals, there were only three women listed every so often, in various eras dating back from the dawn of civilization. She mentally scolded herself; somehow, skimming through a few time periods (1620s, 1770s, 1840s) had led her to mistakenly believe that it was only women of a certain background (e.g., austere, porcelain-complexioned Salem Witches hailing from England) that were listed in the Book of Charmed Ones. Olive-skinned islanders weren't part of this type of documented narrative—or were they?

In her prior magical recordation studies, Macy recalled a certain steady repetition of names, such as "Prudence," "Hester," and "Charity." Of course, there was nothing particularly bad about that, but it was refreshingly wonderful to see that her three great-great aunts had made their mark in history, instead of facing the common conundrum many island nations experienced at the time, being written out of history books that were widely distributed to educational institutions for mass consumption—erased into oblivion. But the three names were there, specifically of the stated era in question. Della, Dora, and Darcy were once living, breathing Charmed Ones—just like me and my sisters!

She then turned to Harry, her voice full of emotion. "Thank you for showing me my ancestors—this means so much to me, Harry."

"I know," he responded with equal seriousness. "I found this while searching through various records and I thought that you of all people should be made aware, since you are a descendant. I also figured this would take your mind off, however temporarily, of those wedding woes of yours." He stepped back to allow her a moment alone with the entry and saw her not-so-subtly snap a photo with her phone for posterity's sake. Macy had thought up until recently that she was an only child, discovering just these past years that she had two younger sisters; now, she had even more—a history uniquely her own.

Once she was done, she closed the book, and took ahold of Harry's arm to orb back to Vera Manor.

1 pm, Vera Manor, Living Room

Harry and Macy orbed back into the living room of Vera Manor. Oddly, Harry felt a tug at his arm, and found Macy had fallen backward and was now sprawled out on the couch behind him. "Are you alright?" he asked, his face full of concern.

"I—I'm ok. I think the wedding's been taking a toll on me." Macy muttered, massaging her head. It seemed strange that after so much orbing for the past couple of years, she would feel just this dizzy and disoriented. She was almost embarrassed at herself for showing this amount and level of physical weakness. She was a Charmed One, after all. Wedding stress, she told herself. Three more months and you'll never be this stressed out again.