by Cindy Stark
“He’s just a regular man, Hazel. He can’t sense magic or read auras. If he did, they’d kick him out of the church.”
“Maybe so, but don’t forget Timothy Franklin has magic in his blood even though he doesn’t claim it, and he secretly uses it against us. So, maybe the priest does, too, and we don’t know it.”
Cora slipped her arm through Hazel’s and turned her around. “Don’t let them scare you. We have just as much right to be in this town as they do. Plus, we have skills they don’t.”
Just because they had a right, didn’t mean they should tempt fate.
“Come meet him, and you’ll see.”
Curiosity and peer pressure fought her common sense and won. She allowed Cora to pull her along until they neared the lush grass, and then she slipped her arm free.
Father Christopher, Mrs. Tillens, and Lobster Lucy all looked up as she and Cora approached. When the priest locked his eyes on Hazel, she gave him a hesitant smile. The older man with thinning gray hair and a skeletal figure returned the gesture, but something about him gave her chills.
Lobster Lucy waved. “Cora. We were just talking about you.” The older, larger woman looked as salty and sturdy as some of the crews who came in off the fishing boats when they were docked near town.
“Me?” Cora joined the group, while Hazel remained closer to the fringe. “What about me?”
Mrs. Tillens, with her silver hair looking freshly washed and coiffed, gave Hazel a small wave, and she returned it.
Lucy thumbed toward the priest. “Father Christopher hoped we’d have a lot more people enter this year for the May Day Chowder Chowdown. I told him that I bet if I could convince you to join the fray, more people would enter. A few of the jealous women in town have bragged that they can cook better than you. If you sign up, I’ll tell them they have the chance to prove it or shut up.”
Cora put a hand over her mouth as if to hide her surprise. “Oh, I don’t know about competing. I’ve never been one to enjoy that.”
Hazel watched the priest while he studied Cora.
“It’s for a good cause,” he said. “And it will help with some of those black marks you’ve gotten for not attending church.” His chuckle came off as hollow.
Cora blushed. “Sorry, Father. I have been a little lax about attending.”
Hazel was surprised to learn that Cora would step foot in a church that didn’t accept her beliefs. Hazel would refuse. She might not freely admit she was a witch, but she wouldn’t pretend to be something she wasn’t, either.
“Is that your acceptance then?” he pushed. “With all the rumors around town, it will do a body good to let others know where your loyalties lie.”
Hazel quelled a gasp at his veiled threat. Be seen at church, or be labeled a witch, especially now. Anti-witch anxieties in modern times had hit an all-time high recently after the circulating rumors about Glenys and her behavior before her recent arrest for murder. But to use that as a scare tactic was deplorable.
“Of course, Father. I’d love to help out.” Cora’s reply might have seemed enthusiastic, but Hazel sensed the churning beneath. It was very reminiscent of her own thoughts. She’d bet Cora wished she’d listened to her when she’d said they should turn around.
Mrs. Tillens’ sweet smile grew wide. “How about you, Hazel, dear? Wouldn’t you love to help us out, too?”
The priest and Lobster Lucy turned their gazes on her, and her mind went blank. She’d be having words with Cora later. “Umm…I’m not one who enjoys clam chowder, so that’s probably a bad idea. I doubt mine would be edible.”
Lucy waved away her concerns with an over-sized hand. “We don’t just make chowder, Hazel. You can enter the bread or dessert category.”
“We could even start a new category for drinks,” Mrs. Tillens added enthusiastically. “You could bring tea.”
Father Christopher nodded. “As long as it’s not peanut tea.”
Hazel gave him a quizzical look. She’d never heard of a tea made from peanuts. She lifted her hands in a hold-it-right-there gesture. “I’m sorry, but it’s really not my thing.”
“What’s not your thing,” John Bartles asked as he joined the group. His sandy blond hair looked freshly cut, and his eyes emitted the usual friendliness. He was an everyday, average kind of guy. At least on the outside.
Hazel grew leery. “Entering competitions.”
The priest extended his hand. “Good to see you, Officer Bartles.”
John shook it with familiar friendliness that left her anxious.
John turned back to her. “You’re going to deny the church when they need you?”
“Come on, Hazel,” Mrs. Tillens encouraged. “We have a lot of fun, and you might find new customers.”
Apparently, her options came down to two things. She could refuse and draw the attention of the town’s witch hunters, or keep the enemy in sight, but be a hypocrite. She pasted on her best fake smile. “I do have some teas that are lovely over ice. I think they’d go perfectly with clam chowder.”
The clapped his hands together. “Wonderful. I love it when a town comes together and supports the church. We all need God in our lives, and what better way to do it.”
She worked to keep a smile in place. She wouldn’t argue that having a higher power in one’s life was a good thing, but this was no leader or man of God standing before her. His aura was too dirty for that.
“Wonderful.” Mrs. Tillens’ face beamed with pleasure. “I don’t know why I haven’t invited you to church before now, Hazel. People would love you, and you’d fit in so well.”
“That’s very kind of you to say.” Hazel shot a glance at Cora and hoped her friend realized they needed to leave before they had her signed up for a baptism. “What’s the date?”
“Next Sunday,” Lucy supplied. “I’ll be baking my incredibly delicious strawberry tarts. I’ll have a special one just for you Father Christopher.”
Mrs. Tillens scoffed. “Now, now, Lucy. That sounds a little like cheating.”
Lucy frowned. “Does not.”
The older lady offered a polite smile. “You’re showing the judge special treatment.”
Lucy slid the strap of her overalls higher on her shoulder. “Anyone else can do the same. I think Father Christopher can retain his impartiality. Don’t you, Father?”
All gazes slid to the priest.
He reassured them with a nod. “I always do my best to be a fair and honest judge.”
“See?” Lucy said to Mrs. Tillens with a sizeable amount of snark in her voice.
Mrs. Tillens pursed her lips and turned her gaze toward the papers in front of her. She wouldn’t argue, but she obviously didn’t agree. “Hazel and Cora, would you please write your names and what you’re bringing?”
Hazel begrudgingly took the pen she offered and signed up for the contest. She turned and handed the pen to Cora with a sugary, you’re-going-to-pay-for-this smile.
If Cora thought her sheepish expression would earn her any favors, she was dead wrong.
Cora wrote her name and then handed the pen to John Bartles. “Is your wife bringing her amazing chocolate cake again this year?”
He grinned. “Absolutely. That’s why I’m here.”
Hazel wanted to be snide and ask him what he himself was bringing, not his wife, since he’d contributed to her being railroaded, but it was best to stay on his good side until she had proof he wasn’t part of the Sons of Stonebridge that would love to run her out of town. If they let her live that long.
“Susan’s cake is my favorite.” Cora nudged Hazel with her elbow. “Wait until you taste it.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Though Hazel doubted very much that it could compete with Cora’s cherry macaroons. She caught Cora’s attention. “We should probably get going. If I’m going to indulge in decadent chocolate cake, I’d better start burning more calories.”
The group laughed.
Lucy stepped toward them. “I’ll walk with you to the corner.
See you later, John, Father Christopher.” She didn’t bother to say anything to Mrs. Tillens.
Hazel wanted to roll her eyes at their petty, small town drama but decided against it. She, apparently, was now one of the god-fearing citizens of Stonebridge. And everyone knew, good church-going people never acted that way.
She held back a snicker of laughter.
Two
Lobster Lucy walked next to Cora on the sidewalk, while Hazel brought up the rear. She didn’t mind. It gave her a chance to observe them both.
After Glenys’ arrest for the murder of Belinda Atkins a couple of weeks ago, the whole town speculated about those Glenys had labeled the Damned. Which, in Stonebridge’s terminology, meant “witch”. Hazel wanted to know who was a legitimate witch as well, but for completely different reasons.
She’d kept her senses wide open for the first couple of days afterward, but picking up on everyone’s emotions exhausted her. She’d have to discover them by other means.
Such as studying Lucy while she walked and talked to Cora.
Cora started pumping her elbows again as they picked up speed. “I’m surprised you’re entering, Lucy. I thought you wanted nothing more to do with the church.”
Hazel wanted to ask for more details regarding Lucy’s decision, but she couldn’t without being rude.
Lucy shrugged her large, sloped shoulders. “I got over it. Can’t hold a grudge forever. Especially now that Ed’s gone. I’ve put those horrible years behind me.”
Cora dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Very wise words. You seem to be a lot happier these days, anyway. Why hold onto that baggage?”
“Dang straight,” Lucy agreed. “I let that crap hit the road just like my ex-husband.”
Hazel lifted her brows as the conversation turned juicier. In the few months since she’d arrived in Stonebridge, she had never heard that Lucy had been married before. The woman wasn’t the least bit feminine, and she had a hard time picturing her with a man.
“Does that mean you’re going to church again?” Cora asked.
Lucy snorted. “Isn’t everybody? No one wants the damning finger pointed at them. I heard Glenys used your name.” She glanced back at Hazel. “Yours, too.”
“Isn’t that the dumbest thing?” Cora chuckled. “Poor gal. She obviously was out of her mind. I mean, a sane person wouldn’t commit murder.”
Lucy gave her a firm nod. “Not without a good reason. She didn’t like Belinda, but that wasn’t a reason to kill her. Also, you and Hazel are some of the nicest people in town. You couldn’t possibly be witches. I hope Glenys gets the help she needs.”
They stopped at the corner where Lucy would part ways with them. The hefty woman regarded them with a cheeky grin. “You both should come with me next Sunday. We can sit together.”
“I can’t,” Hazel said without hesitation, and the other women turned to her with questions in their eyes. “My mother is coming to visit.” Which was about the biggest lie she could tell if Hazel had her way, but her mom was the only excuse she could think of quickly.
“Then come to church the week after. By then, everyone will be excited and talking about the results of the cook off. Seeing as I’ll be one of the winners, I should probably go.” She gave them a conspiratorial wink.
“Sure,” Cora said. “I’ll get someone to cover the morning shift. Hazel?”
If she kept refusing, people would take a serious, second look at her. “Sure. Sounds lovely.”
With a satisfied nod, Lucy left them and strode across the street. When she was out of distance, Hazel gave a low growl. “I may hex you for this.”
Cora tightened her features into a guilty look. “Sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. But it’s just church. Half the people only go because it’s expected anyway.”
“I’ve never sat through a service in my life,” Hazel countered. “And now I have to.”
“I have to go, too,” Cora said with a fair amount of misery.
“Yes, but it sounds like you’ve submitted willingly to this before. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t know Father Christopher, and he would have never been able to coerce you into going because you wouldn’t have talked to him. But now, because of your crazy actions, I have to go, too.”
Cora held her gaze for a long moment, trying to look contrite and failing, before a small smile cracked her face. “It’s only church. It won’t kill you.”
Hazel rolled her eyes. “When thunder strikes the building and it’s falling on our heads, I’m going to tell you I told you so.”
Cora laughed then. “Deal. Until then, be glad they consider you one of them. The alternative would be much worse.”
She supposed it would, but it was hard to think that right now.
Maybe the building would collapse before that Sunday arrived. It was ancient, after all.
Three
Hazel enjoyed the show of muscle as Police Chief Peter Parrish hefted glass dispensers full of her summertime blends of teas and placed them in the small wagon. Afterward, she’d let him help her haul them to her assigned table on the church grounds.
The strawberry, apple and lemon grass green tea was her favorite that she’d created so far, but she really enjoyed the peach herbal tea, too. She was sure the people of Stonebridge would love them.
Hazel led the way across the lawn decorated with banners and balloons, pulling a chest full of ice. An excited energy filled the air as children danced around the May Day pole. People milled about and set up other tasting stations, and she had to admit she liked the positive atmosphere.
Not to mention, the gorgeous old church and meticulous grounds appealed to her artistic senses. She’d have to give Father Christopher credit for keeping the lawn and gardens beautiful.
Though, if it were up to her, she’d plant a few more flowers.
She pointed toward a small table as she and Peter neared it. “That one’s mine.”
Peter waited while she unfolded and spread the bright yellow tablecloth adorned with pink and white hibiscus. The cheerful flowers always brought a smile when she used it.
When she was finished, he lifted one of the dispensers and set it on the table. “Is that where you want it?”
The look on his face begged her to say yes, and she knew why. The full containers were beyond heavy. There had been no way she could have carried them on her own.
“That’s perfect. Thank you.”
She couldn’t say she minded having the town’s hot police chief as her boyfriend.
She also couldn’t say their relationship was back to normal because they hadn’t talked about what had taken place in his office that fateful day when she’d had to cast a spell on Glenys to keep her under control.
His gaze collided with hers. “Anything to help out the church.”
She kept her expression passive until the corner of his mouth quirked upward, causing her to smile. “Yes, whatever Father Christopher needs.”
He’d managed to keep the priest off his tail for not attending by using work as an excuse. The father protected the town’s souls, while Peter protected their lives. A complementary duo, Peter had explained to her.
She had a feeling that deep down, he wasn’t interested in attending any more than she was. “If you wouldn’t mind getting the other two dispensers, I’ll get the rest of my booth set up.”
He gave her a nod of agreement. “Are you charging for tea? Some put donation jars on their tables.”
She glanced about the growing number of townsfolk arriving at the church. “I’d kind of hoped to use this to make friends with people I haven’t met, yet. What better way to make them happy than give them something free. Then, if they like it, they can come to the teashop and purchase more.”
“They’ll like you, too. Not just your tea. Hard to point fingers at someone they really like.”
She grinned, not surprised he’d seen right through her tactics. “You’re too smart for your own good.”
“So are you.” His smil
e stoked the fire burning inside her. “I’ll be right back.”
She watched the heart-stealing man stroll back across the lawn, waving in greeting at those he passed. Never in a million years would she have believed she could tell him she was a witch and think he could still care about her.
But he did.
That made her like him even more.
Cora called it love, said the threads of their tapestry grew stronger every day. She didn’t know about that, but she did love the way he made her feel when he was around.
Tons of people visited her table during the next hour. Luckily, Peter stayed by her side to help. When Mrs. Tillens and Mrs. Lemon popped by for cups of peach herbal iced tea, Hazel grilled Mrs. Tillens, asking why there were no other booths with drinks available.
Mrs. Tillens guiltily admitted she’d forgotten to advertise the category, but promised Hazel would have won anyway.
That wasn’t the point.
When Hazel’s last dispenser was half-empty, she eyed the priest sitting at the table of honor. He had yet to visit her and try the tea. “I think Father Christopher is avoiding me.”
Peter glanced toward the priest. “Why do you say that?”
“He hasn’t come over once. You’d think he would after all the pressuring he gave me.” Well, Cora really. But, she’d felt it all the same.
He chuckled. “He waits until everyone has sampled and then contestants are supposed to present their entries to him. He’s just sitting down now, and that’s probably the signal that he’s ready.”
She lowered her lids into a sardonic stare. “You’re kidding, right? We’re supposed to present him with gifts like he’s a king?”
Enjoyment twinkled in his eyes. “You want him to like you, don’t you?”
“Not especially,” she grumbled and begrudgingly filled a plastic cup with ice and tea. “I’m not waiting until everyone else lines up to please the magistrate. He can have it now or die waiting. I don’t know why I agreed to this in the first place.”
He shrugged and gave her a sarcastic look. “I think we both know the answer to that.”