The Magical Tarot Deck

by Marieke Lexmond

  Tara takes a deep breath and stands up as if to make her way over toward her.

  Ceri puts up her hand and demands, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?!’

  In the resounding silence that follows, Tara desperately tries to find the right words. Her mind is racing. The temperature in the room plummets, and Bert takes a step back from his wife.

  ‘How could you do this to me?’ Ceri spreads her arms dramatically, and butterflies escape from her hands. They are fluttering aimlessly through the room.

  ‘I was hoping you would never have to find out.’

  ‘And why not? It’s part of me?’

  ‘I can see that now.’ Tara bends her head. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

  ‘I thought Seamus was my father. He was the only one who ever seemed to understand me.’ Ceri’s voice falters.

  ‘He was your father. He raised you.’ mutters Tara.

  ‘What about my children? Do you understand what it means for them?’

  ‘What about our children!’ Bert sounds alarmed. Ceri only holds up her hand. This startles Bert; they always had a relationship built on mutual respect and discussed everything. Who is this woman?

  Tara covers her face with her hands.

  ‘Yeah! It’s pretty messed up. You had no right, NO RIGHT, to keep this from me!’

  The windows are frosting over. Freya and Maeve, who had been mesmerized by this revelation, are now showing signs of worry.

  ‘Aunt Ceri, please calm down.’ Maeve’s generally calming voice has zero effect. It only warrants a blank stare.

  ‘Can we talk in private?’ asks Tara in a small voice. ‘I was ashamed of what happened.’

  ‘You and your secrets! I am not ashamed of who I am. They should know.’

  ‘It’s difficult for me to talk about it.’

  ‘Difficult for you to talk about it?! What do you think I’ve been going through the past couple of days?! YOU RUINED MY LIFE!’ A layer of ice forms on the kitchen table. The stove dies down, as the kitchen reacts to Ceri’s mood.

  It hits Tara, and all the windows in the kitchen shatter as Tara’s heart breaks. She sags to the ground and loses consciousness.

  For the longest time, Ceri stares down at her mother, the butterflies return to sit on her, unaffected by the ice. ‘Get the kids. We’re going home.’ Ceri turns around, and a stunned Bert follows her out.

  Finally, Maeve and Freya move to Tara. They turn her on her back, and as the temperature returns to normal, Freya mumbles a rejuvenation spell, and soon Tara opens her eyes.

  ‘How do you feel?’ inquires Freya.

  ‘Poor Ceri.’ is all Tara says. Maeve and Freya help her up and plant her on a stool.

  ‘Is it true? Is she part Fairy?’ asks Maeve.

  ‘Yes, Seamus and I only managed to get her out of Fairy after the others were already born.’

  ‘How old is she?’ Freya looks sick.

  ‘She’s my firstborn,’ which doesn’t sit well with Freya.

  ‘How come I don’t remember anything about her being born or coming to live with us? I must have been six or seven. I must have had questions.’

  Another silence follows—Freya’s anxiety starts mounting. ‘Mom…’

  ‘We were worried you would not be able to keep it a secret.’

  ‘Mom,’ Freya’s anger bubbles up. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘We did the best we could.’

  ‘That’s not really an answer. What did you do to me?!’

  ‘I can’t…can we talk about this another time?’ Tears start to stream down Tara’s face.

  ‘Hell no! I want to know now!’ Freya jumps up, her chair falling back.

  Maeve is so disappointed in Tara that she can’t muster her skills to try to help calm the situation.

  ‘Tell me!’ demands Freya.

  Barely a whisper, ‘We had the Ferrymaster take your memory.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ is all Maeve can say.

  Freya is beside herself. The memory of her recent encounter with the Ferrymaster is still fresh in her mind. To think he had done this to her as a child—her parents.

  Without another word, she leaves the room, too shocked to talk.

  Maeve stares at Tara, who has suddenly become a shrunken, very old looking woman. Maybe she’s in shock.

  With a big sigh, Maeve gets up. ‘Come, Gran, I’ll help you upstairs, just when I think things can’t get any worse, some new secret of yours pops up. What are we going to do?’

  Bridget felt guilty, leaving just as her aunt had come home, but she needed some time to herself. There’s nothing like meandering through the Garden District—with its majestic houses and beautiful gardens—to collect your thoughts. The old trees, their roots upending the sidewalk, pushing up the stones and cement, force you to watch your steps. Her dogs pull her in different directions. There are so many smells. The rushing of the leaves and the oppressive heat are warning signs of a coming thunderstorm. It will bring a short reprieve from the horrible summer heat. The electrical discharge it brings will also allow her to replenish her magic. Everything is happening so quickly. It has drained her, emotionally and magically. Quietly she laughs, ‘magically,’ not something she would have considered just a few weeks ago, how life has changed. Absentmindedly, she untangles the dogs’ leashes, a never-ending struggle if you walk that many dogs. When she looks back up, she peeks through the bushes and can see one of her favorite houses on the street. The wide porch looks inviting, and she had always fantasized about sitting in the swing between the big baskets of flowers, a mimosa in her hand, snuggled up with Wes. Longingly she touches the fence and gets an instant glimpse into a time long ago. Two women are dressed in flowing dresses, floppy hats, engaged in a heated discussion on the porch. Nothing about this scene is tranquil. One is in tears, and the other seems to want to touch her, but her hand just hangs somewhere halfway between them, as if she’s unable to make that last move. Then she turns toward Bridget as if she can see her. Bridget snaps out of her vision—this is not what she had expected. The scene instantly reminded her of her sister. As if she just can’t quite reach her. There is something brewing inside her twin, and it pains her that she has neglected her so severely, that Maeve is no longer able to confide in her. It’s one of the many problems between the two of them.

  Thank goodness they finally managed to move the Dagger, just in the nick of time. How long will they be able to keep its location a secret? Her Gran has not been thinking straight. Since this whole scandalous affair started, everything has gone downhill. One terrible secret after another is tearing their family apart. She’d been so wrong about her family. For years, she thought they were your average witch family. She had treated magic as a burden. Gosh, this whole situation has made her look in the mirror and face her shortcomings. What would her therapist say now? This makes her laugh out loud. The dogs are rubbing up against her. They always know when she needs comfort. Sod the therapist, dogs are much better therapy.

  She will need weeks to process this, but her gut tells her they will have no time. Lucy is no fool, and that granddaughter of hers is a powerful, modern witch. Logically that makes that man her grandson. The man that had called them from the cards the first time. For a moment, she recalls the details of the room, a sophisticated witch workroom, not like the one in Boston with the creepy table. This room is meticulously crafted, while the space in Boston was emotional and somehow more personal. How big is Lucy’s family? Maybe that’s a place to start, try to get more background. If her family is as big as ours, we’re in big trouble. Ha! Big trouble, the vine around her finger starts to change color, the leaves turning red, yellow, and brown, this can only mean that trouble is here. For now, she can’t possibly think of a bigger mess. They need to get that Tarot Deck back, that’s the priority. When she’s back home, she’ll call Tom and see if they can try to approach it rationally. This magic is going way over her head. Happy to have a start somewhere, she heads back. Home—over the past week, she hasn’t thought about
her life in Boston even once. She could blame all the craziness that has been going on but she should stop fooling herself. The trees, these streets, the air, the magic, this is home.

  In her room, Tara’s mind is going in circles. Maeve had helped her onto the bed, but sleep didn’t come. Seamus had always stressed to her to tell Ceri the truth, and she wanted to do it, but the whole experience had been so traumatic for her. It was always easier to look at how happy Ceri actually was. Somehow, of all her kids, Ceri had always been the most satisfied with her life. Someone here or there would comment on her radiant skin or youthful looks. But nothing to give any alarm or worry about yet. It was easy to dismiss any misgivings she might have had Ceri’s relationship with Bert and her kids was always full of joy. Not anymore…This whole sordid business seemed to have destroyed that. Was it all her fault? Could she have prevented it by telling her? Maybe—maybe some of it. Many times, she intended to tell her, but the timing was never right. Now it’s too late. Tara can’t believe how much her child has changed. The wild power coming off her in waves was slightly worrying.

  Then her eye falls on the five of cups on her altar. Despair all right. Time now to pick a new card. Hopefully that will help her snap her mind out of this endless loop of shame and blame.

  She makes her way to her desk and grabs her regular tarot deck, puts the card in and shuffles, thinking about what she could possibly do to make this better. Without further delay, she pulls a card, and when she turns around, the six of pentacles stares back at her. Mushrooms grow on the forest floor. A small snail is feasting on it. Give and take. Is she the giver or the receiver? Or both? Or does it suggest she should stop focusing on her short comings and be more generous?

  Lying in bed brooding is not helping her. She needs to refresh herself; a cleansing bath is a good start. Instantly feeling a little relief, she heads to the bathroom and turns on the tap.

  UTAH

  Lucy can’t believe it. She was sure the woman, Freya, hadn’t lied to her. What about Bridget? The smirk on her face betrayed her. She must know where the Dagger is. That young witch is in the middle of it all. She was the one at her house in Boston, and she was also present when they took the Dagger from her. Maybe, she had misjudged her. The other witch’s power radiated, did that hide the young witch’s true potential?

  Very slowly, Lucy turns around in her workroom, what a mess. All those years she had spent collecting the ingredients. Involuntarily, a shudder runs through her. The frustration of not having her magic is taking a physical effect on her. It’s like her blood is boiling, finding a way to relieve the pressure. Maybe it’s time for a cold bath and a little meditation. Although the Deck in her pocket is calling to her, it might be better to restrain herself, to pause before she leaps again. So far, it hadn’t brought her anything but misery. Cal and Mara quietly wait for instructions; they can see their grandmother’s mood. Even though her powers are not working, you still don’t want to get on the wrong side of her.

  Cal follows Seamus’ happy dance from the corner of his eye. He’s ecstatic that Bridget disappeared again. The extra card must have worked. That girl has potential. He knew it from the moment she and Maeve were born. Those girls are special.

  Unaware of him, Lucy turns to her grandchildren. ‘Clean this up.’

  Without waiting for a response, she goes upstairs.

  NEW ORLEANS

  Liam and Emily are staring at their mother. Ceri is aware she looks different; it can’t be that bad? After their initial joy at seeing her, they seem now a bit wary.

  ‘What happened to your eyes?’ It’s like Emily finally found her voice.

  ‘A lot has happened. It’s a long story. Let’s go home.’ Ceri longs for normalcy and can’t wait to leave this house.

  ‘You left us. Mom, we have a right to know.’ Liam sounds too grown up. Had she ruined his childhood?

  What had happened while she was gone? Bridget is different, and her mother looks so fragile. Her kids have changed, she hasn’t been gone that long, has she?

  ‘I didn’t leave you. I…I…’ Desperate for support, she turns to Bert. He, however, doesn’t look too sure either.

  ‘Oh, dear.’ whispers Sparkle. With an irritated shake of her head, she tries to silence him. Why didn’t they just hug her and get ready to go home? That’s what she’d dreamed of. It’s becoming painfully evident that her life on earth is no fairytale either. Irritation bubbles to the surface; it must be her fairy side. Quickly she squashes it, but her sensitive children had picked up on it and move away from her, from HER, their mother. She takes a deep breath and remembers what it means to be human. The touches, the vulnerabilities, compassion, these feelings need to come to the surface. Kind, she used to be nice. Slowly, the old features show in her face, and the tension leaves the room.

  ‘Okay, why don’t you sit down.’ Bert, Emily and Liam sit together on the bed, while she takes a seat in the chair opposite them. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘What happened to you?’ blurts Bert, moving his hand up and down to try to illustrate her different appearance.

  ‘Where to begin?’ Ceri’s mind wanders back to the jump over the balustrade, which now seems a lifetime ago. ‘Tara was right. I was stuck in Fairy.’

  Bert jumps up. ‘Enough! This Fairy nonsense stops, now!’ He thought now Ceri was back, life would return to normal, it only seemed to have gotten weirder.

  Ceri stands up opposite Bert. ‘Please, Bert, hear me out. You knew I was a witch. I’ve always been honest with you.’ She reaches for him, but he steps back.

  ‘Really. Honest. Are you sure? I think you left a lot out.’ the sarcasm resounding in his words. The kids squirm uncomfortably. They love both their parents, and it’s hard to see them fight. Until now, they had always been so loving and caring together. Not like this.

  It seems like a lot has happened while she was gone. Not good. She had told Bert that she was a witch and didn’t correct him when he assumed she meant she was one of the new age women. That’s what people these days think that witches are—the days of real magic forgotten. Her family, and there are others, are the witches of old. It’s not as you imagine. Maybe, she should admit to her own omissions in all this, but who would ever have anticipated this situation?

  ‘You’re overreacting.’

  ‘Overreacting! Overreacting! You disappear off to Fairy. Am I supposed to believe that? Your family intimidates me and forces me to stay here with my kids under the presumption of “helping” me. They tell me they have some sort of Magical Tarot Deck that got stolen and that we can disappear. Really?!’

  Shock shows on Ceri’s face. ‘What are you talking about?’

  But Bert rants on, ‘They blame poor Emily for having lost it.’

  Emily shrinks. ‘Dad…It’s true. I…I’m so sorry. I took it from Grandma’s room and now—’

  ‘Don’t let them intimidate you, sweetheart. We’re going home, and there is nothing that can stop me this time.’

  ‘We can’t go home.’ She replies in a small voice.

  ‘See!’ points Bert at Emily’s sad face. ‘See what they have done to her?’

  ‘What tarot deck are you talking about?’ Ceri is confused.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ The anger leaves Bert and now he looks resigned, which might be even worse. ‘You…We were talking about you. What happened to your eyes?’ Bert demands.

  Ceri looks through the window, anywhere but at her family, the garden used to give her peace, not today though. She has to be honest with her family, ‘I’m part Fairy, and spending time in Fairy has brought that out.’

  Bert is flabbergasted. ‘You’ve…You’ve gone mad.’ He tries to move as if to shield his kids from her.

  ‘I’m still me.’ She manages to say in a small voice.

  Emily peeks around her father, ‘For real?!’

  ‘Yes. Tara is my mother, but I had a fairy father. I never knew…’ Ceri looks lost.

  Bert is lost for words, and Liam slip
s past him and hugs his Mom hard.

  ‘I knew we were different.’ Grateful for some warmth, Ceri cherishes this moment.

  ‘Does that mean we’re fairy, too?’ wonders Emily.

  ‘Yes, partly. As I was half and your father is human.’

  ‘That’s so “sic”.’ Emily is on her feet now as well.

  ‘Very sick, alright.’ adds Bert totally misunderstanding.

  ‘I mean it’s lit, Dad.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s amazing! We must have special powers or something.’ Emily is so excited.

  ‘STOP IT!’ shouts Bert. ‘Fairies aren’t real. We’re going home!’

  ‘Great, come on, kids.’ says Ceri.

  ‘Not you. I don’t know what happened to you.’ He moves closer to her and whispers. ‘Are you on drugs?’

  ‘Bert!’ Ceri can’t believe it. She never touches the stuff. ‘I can take you there if you don’t believe me.’

  ‘Stop it. That’s enough. I’m taking them home and I want you to stay away from them until my old Ceri comes back.’

  ‘Noooooo. You can’t take my kids.’ Tears form in Ceri’s eyes, and the temperature drops in the room. Bert steps back, trying to grab his kids, but they cling to their Mother. He was already on edge, now he’s frightened. Ceri looks scary, what happened to his wife? He simply can’t grasp it.

  Ceri’s fairyness takes over. All the stress makes her unable to stop it. She feels her children stiffen, and her emerald eyes focus with ferocity on Bert, who seems to shrink in her towering presence. The door bangs open, and Bridget rushes in with her dogs.

  ‘Ceri, no!’ she yells over the ice storm building in the room. Ceri glances at her but doesn’t seem to see her. The dogs form a ring around the children, and Bridget searches for a way to reach her aunt. The vine around her finger has iced over. She takes a second to center herself, gather her magic, and put all her focus on the vine. She pours her love for her aunt into the connection. She focuses on everything she can remember—Ceri’s infectious laugh, her generosity, being her teacher, a friend. The vine on her finger defrosts and starts to bloom, a similar vine around Ceri’s finger reacts. This breaks the icy spell, and the temperature slowly returns to normal.