by Louisa West
The only good thing about the place was the full-length windows that made up the entire storefront and let in plenty of sunshine. She moved to the machine closest to the door and began to stuff her dirty laundry inside. She added a detergent pod and eyed the machine warily. She was in no mood for linoleum gymnastics today.
“Listen up,” she said to it, meaning business. “I don’t want any funny business today. I need this done in time for my shift. Got it?”
The machine just sat there.
Rosie dug out her purse and put three quarters down the coin slot. They dropped into the machine with a ka-chink, ka-chink, ka-chink. Pressing her lips together and crossing her fingers on both hands, she reached forward with one middle finger to press the ‘wash’ button.
Nothing happened. Rosie could feel the rage starting to build in her, that sense of resentment that of course the damn washing machine would continue to eat her change, because she didn’t have an infinite supply of cash and couldn’t afford her own damn washing machine.
She squared her shoulders and glared at the offending appliance, determined that she would get her laundry done come hell or high water.
“I’ve broken stuff before, you know,” she warned the machine. “I have a fried cell phone to prove it.”
The machine didn’t seem bothered.
“Ugh!” Frowning, Rosie decided that she needed to take serious action. Now was as good a time as any to test her so-called magical powers, right? No one was around. No one would be able to report on her actions for the Mosswood Messenger. With a deep breath, she faced the machine and laid her hands on the display panel.
As she let her breath out, she focused her entire body on transferring energy to the washing machine. She tried to remember what Declan had said about The Three I’s, but as she didn’t have any ingredients, she would have to make do with the other two. Intent? Check. That left...
“Wash my damn clothes, you temperamental sonofabitch,” Rosie intoned as mystically as possible.
She gave the machine a final push of energy. She could feel it hum as it left her hands, vibrating against the plastic dial and display panel of the machine before it dissipated. And nothing happened at all.
Rosie saw red. “You piece of—!” She lashed out and landed a kick on the bottom of the machine.
Whirr.
The machine grumbled to action just as Rosie was prepping to lose her shit. She held her breath for a couple of seconds, daring it to stop after teasing her with potential competence. When it continued into the wash cycle, she exhaled and stepped away so as not to disturb it.
“Typical,” she muttered, making her way over to the messy bench to wait out her sentence.
When Rosie’s cell beeped towards the end of her shift, she knew it could only be one person. She smiled, a little flutter of something that felt like excitement tickled her stomach before she shooed it away. Excitement wasn’t something she needed to be associating with anyone right now, much less her newly acquired and often irritating house guest.
Sure enough, a notification from Declan sat at the top of her screen. Her day had been peppered with texts and pictures of what he and Maggie were up to: enjoying hot dogs at Granny’s for lunch, laying out tools when they got home, Maggie looking pleased as punch to be strong enough to carry one of the decking boards from the truck to the house all by herself. It was adorable, and Rosie had been devouring the updates. She unlocked her phone to read the text.
'Would you like us to pick you up from work?'
Warmth bloomed in the pit of her stomach, and her smile widened. That was kind of him. She was tempted to say yes on account of the heat, but she liked her walks. They gave her time to think about what might be next for her while also letting her soak in her new surroundings and get a little exercise. And today, even though she still had to carry laundry, she had the bonus of having the walk to herself because Maggie was already with Declan.
'No thanks – I'm all set. See you guys soon.'
She finished out the last ten minutes of her shift, tidying up the counter area and restocking the gum stand one last time. After offering Ben a cheerful goodbye that he returned from the far end of aisle two, Rosie set out up Main Street. The sun had already sunk to the forest canopy, and she hadn’t even made it past the Elementary School before it slipped behind the trees.
There was still plenty of light, but now it was the golden, buttery kind that drenched everything in highlights of gold and shadows of blue-green. It was this time of day in the summer that Rosie liked best; the cicadas would start up, the frogs croaked from the down by the river. She didn’t feel any hesitation as she walked out of town and up the long, winding road towards what Ben had told her was Needlepoint Woods. As she approached the cottage through a thick part of the woods, she could hear shrieks.
Maggie.
Rosie’s heart leaped into her throat, and she abandoned the road to run through the woods towards the sound in a blind panic. It was still light enough to see when she burst through the trees beside the lawn, and she stopped dead in her tracks as another shriek filled the air, followed immediately by a cascade of giggles.
Maggie and Declan were chasing each other across the lawn, skittering in circular motions with arms stretched wide, trying to tag each other back. They were both drenched from head to foot by the spray of a lone sprinkler that Declan must have picked up from the Wood & Wax. Maggie’s hair was plastered to her head, and she wore a smile so wide that Rosie began to tear up.
And then she noticed what Declan was wearing. A pair of cargo shorts and that was it. His muscles bunched and shifted with effort as he ran, and Rosie found herself mesmerized by the droplets of water that were speckled over his pale skin, catching the last rays of sunlight. He shook his head as he ran after Maggie, water spraying in all directions, and his ginger hair spiking up in every which way. He roared with laughter as he tagged Maggie back and turned to evade her, spotting Rosie standing across the lawn.
“There ya are!” he called with a grin, slowing down to catch his breath enough to talk. “We were worried you were gonna miss out on all the fun!”
“Come on, Mom!” Maggie chimed in, dancing across the lawn like a wood sprite to catch hold of her mother’s hand. “You and me can gang up on Declan!”
“Oh aye, that sounds about right,” he complained, bending at the waist to rest the heels of his palms on his knees. “Two against one – I see how it is!”
Her panic eased, Rosie shrugged a shoulder. “I dunno,” she said. She set the bag of laundry down on the dry grass as she allowed Maggie to tow her across the lawn towards the sprinkler. “I think your ego counts as at least one other person – possibly two.”
Declan pressed a hand to his heart as though he had been shot. Rosie smirked, rolling her eyes at him. She looked down at her denim shorts and the blue cotton polo shirt with the Go-Go-Mart logo on the breast pocket that formed her uniform. As she shuffled to kick off her plain white tennis shoes, she looked between Declan and Maggie.
“Who’s it?”
“You are!” Maggie declared gleefully, leaping forward, and landing a well-placed tap on Rosie’s butt.
“Why, you little –!” Rosie laughed, taking off after her daughter through the refreshing spray of the sprinkler as Maggie cackled. The chase continued for several laps of the big oak in the middle of the lawn. Rosie followed Maggie until she could see her daughter was starting to tire. As soon as she was close enough, she feinted to the left before ducking to the right. She paused, tapping an unsuspecting Declan on his beefy shoulder.
“Misdirection is it!” he cried, bolting after Rosie, and earning himself a shriek from her for his effort. By this stage, it was getting dark, and it was much harder to see. Rosie weaved across the lawn, hoping to outrun him, but her walks to and from town weren’t effective enough training for this kind of a workout. She felt his hand close over her arm, and she scrambled in one last attempt to get away from him, but her foot slipped in the w
et grass.
Before she knew what had happened, she had slipped onto her side. Declan’s grip had been so tight on her arm that she had taken him down with her. He landed on the grass beside her with a massive ‘oof!’, their arms and legs tangled. She took a second to understand what had happened, and still another to know for sure that she wasn’t hurting anywhere.
“Are you okay?” she said, listening to Maggie still running and shrieking on the opposite side of the lawn. She was suddenly hyper-aware of their bare, wet skin pressed together, the smell of the grass, the sensation of the water droplets falling from the air. She could barely make out his face in the darkness now, but she knew it was awfully close to hers. She could feel his breath, hot and fast, on her cheek.
“Fine,” he said between breaths, his voice husky. “You?”
“I’m fine. I–”
“Dogpile!” Maggie screeched, coming out of nowhere to make a flying leap. She landed on top of the pair of them, making them both groan with pain and indignity.
“Maggie! What–” Rosie began, but the tickling had already started.
Declan tickled Maggie. Maggie tickled Rosie. Rosie was so ticklish that she was incapable of tickling anyone. The three of them rolled on the wet lawn, torturing each other, their laughter filling the surrounding woods. Rosie’s face was hurting from all the fun she was having, and she finally managed to break free from being tickled herself long enough to contemplate tickling Declan when a pair of bright lights blinded her.
Headlights.
“Pizza!” Declan and Maggie cried in unison, abandoning the war front to leap to their feet. Declan offered Rosie his hand, and she shook it, hoping that she didn’t have grass stains on her drenched work shirt. As she came to her feet, she noticed Declan’s eyes skipping over her face in the light from the car. He reached up, plucking off a sprig of grass that had stuck to her cheek and flicking it away.
“Hungry?” he asked her, his expression unreadable.
“Starving,” she replied, determined to keep hers neutral as well.
She turned to look at Maggie, who was already badgering the delivery boy as he retrieved their pizza from the car. When he turned and Rosie saw his face, she bit back a groan.
It was Prissy Bishop’s son, the sour-faced blonde kid who had been featured alongside his parents in the Herald of Hope newsletter. And he had seen her, Rosie Bell: alleged maneater, rolling around in the dirt soaking wet with a huge Irishman who currently looked like he belonged on the cover of a graphic erotica novel.
Maybe she should start accepting lifts to and from town, in case they decided to stone her to death.
“Mom!” Maggie called from the other room as Rosie danced around the stove in the kitchen. “Can we light the fire tonight? And then we can make s’mores, and tell ghost stories, and—”
“Not tonight,” Rosie interjected, and Maggie groaned.
“Why not?”
“Because it's ninety degrees outside.”
“If it gets cold?” Maggie counter-offered.
Rosie raised a brow. “We’ll see.”
Satisfied with that answer, for the time being, Maggie fell quiet. Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Rosie continued to set out paper plates and napkins at the squashed round table. Maggie and Declan were having so much fun in the kitchen earlier she had kicked them out so she could get down to business. Pizza was supposed to be an easy meal.
She lost herself in the relaxing ritual of setting the table and emptying the sink of dishes. Now that she’d tidied up, the cottage felt homey and safe, her little woodland sanctuary. She put the salt and pepper shakers on the table, and the oven dinged, alerting that the pizza had been re-warmed.
“Dinner!” she called. After a few moments, two pairs of feet sounded in the front hall before Maggie and Declan emerged. The pair of them had soot smeared all over their faces, and Declan’s hair was nearly black with it. Rosie stared at them for a moment, taking in the sight of Maggie’s happy, smudged little face, and the sheepish expression on Declan’s.
“We decided to see if we could dislodge any of the blockage in the fireplace,” he admitted.
“Don’t worry!’ Maggie chimed in, “It didn’t get on the couch! Or the rug! Or the—”
“It’s mostly just on us,” Declan cut her off, throwing her a look that cautioned her not to volunteer too much information until they knew the depth of the trouble they were in.
Rosie looked from one to the other, and then she burst out laughing. The pair of them looked at her and then at each other. Then they fixed her with pearly white grins compared to the black streaks all over their faces, which only made Rosie laugh even harder. They joined in. Once their giggles had wound down to a manageable rate, Rosie wiped the tears from her eyes and decided to take charge.
“Well, we can’t eat with y’all looking like that. Declan—please go wash up in the kitchen sink. Maggie – shower.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, giving her a good-natured salute, which Maggie immediately copied before dissolving into giggles again.
Ten minutes later, Rosie returned to find the pizza steaming on top of the stove while Declan dried himself. He clicked his fingers to stop the spell he had been using to keep the food warm. She glanced from the pizza to him and had just enough time to take in the sight of his roguish grin before Maggie joined them.
“Oh, man, I can't wait to eat! Thanks for the pizza, Declan.”
Rosie’s face glowed with pride at her well-mannered child. She leaned over to press a kiss to the top of Maggie’s freshly shampooed and still damp head.
“You're welcome, Magnolia,” Declan said, shaking an insane amount of red pepper flakes onto his pizza. “How about a story while we eat?”
Maggie nodded. “Yes, please!”
“Okay,” Declan said with a knowing smile, pulling apart his pizza slices so they could cool.
“Once upon a time, there was a beautiful witch princess. She had hair as dark as ebony and sparkling grey eyes that were the same color as the sky after a rainstorm.” His eyes met Rosie’s across the table. She felt a blush threatening her cheeks, so she focused on her pizza instead.
“Just like mom!” Maggie exclaimed happily.
“Just like your mum.” Declan smiled and continued. “This princess looked like her mother, who looked like her mother, who had been the spitting image of her mother, and so on. The princess was the pride and joy of her parents, and they promised her fair hand in marriage to the witch prince of a neighboring land in the hopes that their lands would be joined, forevermore.”
Maggie scoffed. “But boys can’t be witches! Boy witches are called wizards.”
Declan shook his head. “Nope. Wizards are a different kettle of fish – but we’ll talk about them another time.” He took a bite of his pizza, chewed it a few times, and then swallowed. “Anyway,” he said, “the princess was in love with another man, and couldn’t abide the thought of marrying someone she wasn’t in love with. Her parents were afraid that she would defy their wishes to marry the prince, so they had a terrible spell placed on her.”
“Her own parents did?” Maggie asked in a hushed voice. “That’s so mean!” She reached for her pizza, leveling it at her mouth without taking her eyes off Declan.
“Mm-hm. Every day that the princess refused to marry the prince, she would lose a little bit of her magic.” Declan took another bite. “In dribs and drabs, her magic would dwindle down until finally it would disappear entirely. The princess was so in love that she chose to sacrifice her magic, and she stole away with her beloved in the dead of night. They made their way across the sea, where she was merely a woman instead of a princess. She had to find work as a lowly servant, scrubbing pots and pans. But they were so happy, and their happiness preserved her magic longer than her parents ever expected.”
Although the sadness of the story struck her, Rosie could think of worse lives to live. She would much rather have real, true love than riches and a crown. She eye
d Declan suspiciously over the table and began to wonder where the story was heading.
He met her gaze, but his expression gave nothing away. “But her magic still diminished over time. Many years later, their only child grew ill. The princess used up all the rest of her magic to keep the babe alive. Feeling the last of her magic ebbing away, she cast one last spell. She implored the moon not to let her parents' cruelty survive forever. That one day, all the magic taken from her would return to her lineage.”
A strange chill came over Rosie then, even though the house was sweltering on account of the old, busted AC unit. She had only just had a heart-to-heart with the moon herself recently. There was something hauntingly familiar about this tale even though she’d never heard it before.
“But she didn’t know that her parents had also cast a spell,” Declan continued. “Regretting having forced their daughter away from them, they had made a promise to the moon—that when their daughter's magic ran dry, they would sacrifice their magic to strengthen hers.”
Maggie gasped, and Rosie was so enthralled with the story now that the sound made her jump.
“What would that mean?” Maggie asked, her eyes like saucers.
“Well,” Declan said, looking across the table at Rosie pointedly, in a way that said his next words were for her. “That when their daughter's line eventually had her magic restored, it would be powerful beyond all magic known before. And the promise of marriage between those two families?” He nodded somberly. “It still stands, waiting for the magic to return and for The Lost Lineage to reunite the kingdoms.”
Maggie stared at him, chewing her pizza thoughtfully. A few seconds after the story had come to its end, she swallowed. “What happens when the families do unite?”
Declan looked away from Rosie and took the last bite of his pizza. “I’ve got a story about that one’n all, but it’s for another day.”