Wedding Spells

by Morgana Best

  As I walked up the path to my house, the lavender bushes shook and purple flowers fell on the path in front of me. My mood brightened at once. “Thank you, Grandfather,” I called out.

  My grandparents were clearly excited about my wedding. Many years ago, a woman put a curse on my grandmother to be bound to the house forever after she died and cursed my grandfather to be bound to the garden. Luckily for my grandparents, she was unable to bind my grandmother from the garden, so her plan backfired to some degree. My grandmother could actually become the house and change rooms at will—not that she had done so lately—and physically throw people she didn’t like out of the house. She had saved my life on more than one occasion.

  My grandmother also had total control of the television and chose all the shows. I had no say in the matter. Lately, she had been watching Bridezillas. I hope she didn’t think I was a bride Godzilla. I would have thought I was the opposite.

  When I opened the door, Mendelssohn’s Wedding March blared from the living room, all but drowning out the sound of screeching brides from an episode of Bridezillas.

  I turned to Thyme. “The house has been doing that to me every time I come home lately.”

  Thyme laughed. “Let’s get some wine.”

  My two cats, Willow and Hawthorn, didn’t meet me at the door as they usually did. I found them in the kitchen. “Willow and Hawthorn are acting strangely,” I said to Thyme. “They’re not clamouring for their food.”

  I thought Thyme would disagree with me, but she shot them a closer look and said, “You know, I think you’re right. What do you think is the matter? Do you think they’re sensing all this excitement? Do you think they’re wondering where you and Alder are going to live?”

  I sighed long and hard. “The wedding’s only a week away, and we haven’t figured it out yet. Right now, we’re going to live half here and half at Alder’s apartment. I hope Willow and Hawthorn won’t be worried about living in two places.”

  “I like my idea the best.” Thyme pointed to the back of the house. “You have such a large block of land. You could easily build a house behind this one. Anyway, should we order pizza for lunch?”

  I opened the fridge door and peered inside. “Why don’t I make something to eat?”

  Thyme shot a look at the overhead smoke alarms, and then crossed to the kitchen sink. She wasted no time lighting two incense sticks, and grabbed a bottle of essential oil from an overhead cupboard. “Where’s your essential oil diffuser?”

  “In the living room. Just use the oil burner there.” I was offended. “You want to cover up the smell of burnt food. You think I’m going to burn something, don’t you!”

  “No, no, of course not. I like the smell of lavender, and um, whatever that incense is. Like I just said, why don’t you build a house behind this one?”

  I rubbed my forehead. “I don’t know. They say when people get married, they should get a new house and not live in either partner’s house. If we build on this land, it would be like Alder moving into my house. I really don’t know what to do about it.”

  “Speak of the devil,” Thyme said as we heard the front door open followed by footsteps striding down the hallway.

  Alder swept through the door with a flourish. His face was grim. “Amelia, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  Alder always reminded me of a vampire, one of those brooding men filled with secrets dashing down cobblestone paths while shrouded in amber light. Today, Alder looked less mysterious and more distressed.

  Thyme wasted no time in beating a hasty retreat. “Don’t worry about the wine. See you tomorrow at the shop,” she called over her shoulder.

  “What is it?” I asked him, anxiety gnawing away at the pit of my stomach.

  Both Willow and Hawthorn let out a yowl and sprinted from the room.

  Alder rubbed his forehead and folded his arms over his chest. “There’s something I’ve been keeping from you. You need to know now.”

  “You have a wife!” I said. “You already have a wife?” I clutched my throat.

  Alder looked at me as though I were mad. “No, of course not.”

  I backed away from him, my hands latching onto the cold edge of my Belfast sink. “You’re having an affair!”

  Again, he shook his head. “No, I’m not!”

  “Do you want to call off the wedding?” I could scarcely breathe.

  The cats peeped around the door.

  “No, Amelia.”

  “You have children! Do you have children?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  My mind scanned other possibilities. “Your hair isn’t naturally black?”

  Alder closed the distance between us and took my hand. “It is something truly terrible. I have…”

  Chapter 3

  I interrupted him. “You have what? An incurable disease?”

  He shook his head. “No, I have a great aunt.”

  The cats fled.

  “Is that all?” I said, relief flooding every cell of my body. “That doesn’t matter, does it?” It was then I realised the implications. I jabbed my finger on his chest. “You said you didn’t have any living relatives! Why have you never mentioned this relative to me?”

  I wondered what other people were keeping from me. Ruprecht had been keeping his garden a secret from me. Alder had been keeping his great aunt a secret from me. What else?

  “I wasn’t trying to keep her a secret from you as such,” he said, his tone somewhat defensive. “I was going to tell you at some point. I just don’t think of her as family.” He took a deep breath and added, “You know my family were all witch hunters.”

  I had to smile at that. “Yes, you’re from a long line of witch hunters. You yourself are a witch, and a Dark Witch at that.”

  “So are you.” Alder’s manner was grim. “And while my great aunt has never been a witch hunter, she absolutely hates and despises witches.”

  “I really can’t see the problem.” I poured myself a glass of wine and downed half of it in one gulp. “Just avoid her like the plague.”

  “That’s going to be a little difficult,” Alder said. “She just now turned up on my doorstep and announced she’s staying for the wedding. She was quite put out that she wasn’t invited.”

  I slowly sipped the remaining half glass of wine while thinking the matter over. “Well, that’s not good. She’ll realise we’re witches.”

  Alder shook his head. “No, of course she won’t. How would she find out?”

  “Maybe it will dawn on her when we get married in a garden by Handfasting rather than having a traditional church wedding in an actual church,” I said with more than a little sarcasm. “Anyway, how on earth did she find out about the wedding?”

  Alder held up both hands in a defensive gesture. “I sure didn’t invite her if that’s what you’re thinking. She used to stay part time in Bayberry Creek, and you know what small country towns are like.”

  I nodded. “I sure do. People know what you do before you do it, and if they don’t know it, then they make it up. That means she still has friends in town,” I pointed out. “Spies, even.”

  Alder disagreed. “Not necessarily friends, just gossips, and she could have had a chance encounter with one of them, maybe over social media. She does own a little farm out of town, but as far as I know, the land is rented out and she hasn’t been there in years.”

  “Are you sure she’s not a witch hunter?” I asked him. “What if she’s the last witch hunter in your bloodline?”

  “No, she isn’t. She absolutely despises witches, but she’s never been a witch hunter. I’m sure of that.”

  There was something about his aunt that made my skin prickle. “Well, what do we do now?”

  Alder rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. I can’t leave her in my house alone for long, that’s for sure. I locked my altar room, but she might find her way in there.”

  “I thought you said she wasn’t a witch hunter!” I knew my tone was accu
satory, but I didn’t much care.

  “She’s not a witch hunter, but I wouldn’t put it past her to snoop. In fact, I’m sure that’s what she’s doing as we speak.”

  “That means I can’t visit you for the next week, not until the wedding,” I said with dismay.

  “That’s right. My aunt is certainly a troublemaker.”

  “Oh well, it’s only a week to the wedding.” I tried to cheer myself up. A week without Alder would be difficult, but we were spending the rest of our lives together, after all. I really couldn’t be too sad. Still, a heavy cloud descended on me at the thought of his aunt. “You know, I have a bad feeling about your aunt,” I added. “I’ve had a sensation of impending doom lately.”

  Alder was half out the door. He paused and turned back to me. “I’m not a fan of hers by any means, but I can’t see how she can possibly cause any trouble.”

  With that, he vanished and I was left alone with my thoughts. His aunt was already causing trouble by her very presence, and I sensed in my bones that more trouble was to come. I had no idea what it would be, but I knew it was going to be bad.

  I had to do something to take my mind off things, but what? I looked in the fridge for inspiration, and found it. There were two round sponge cakes sitting in the fridge. Of course, I hadn’t baked them. My baking was improving, but I couldn’t take any chances. The last sponge cake I had baked had crushed the shelves in the fridge.

  I had put a double layer of plastic wrap around a large pudding basin earlier. Now I carefully cut the sponge to fit the base of the pudding basin. I brushed it with chocolate liqueur.

  Just as I took the ice cream from the fridge, there was a loud knock on the front door. I knew that wouldn’t disturb my baking—the recipe said to set aside the ice cream to soften it somewhat.

  I hurried to the door and opened it to see an astronaut standing on the porch. Actually, it was Camino in one of her weird sleeping bag onesies.

  “I discovered the drawback to this item,” she announced by way of greeting and then pushed past me. The onesie was so bulky it squashed me against the wall.

  When I regained my breath, I said, “Come into the kitchen. I’m baking something.”

  A look of fear flashed across Camino’s face. I beat her to the kitchen and was mashing some fresh raspberries when she finally staggered through the kitchen door. I looked up. “What was the drawback you mentioned?” I was sure there was more than one drawback, but I was too polite to say so.

  “It’s impossible to go to the bathroom unless I take it off,” she said. “Actually, I’ve found a way around that. I could…”

  I held up a hand to forestall her. “Too much information.”

  “I haven’t said anything yet.”

  I nodded. “That’s exactly how I like it.” It was then I noticed the items in her hands. “Camino, why on earth are you holding that strange blue thing?”

  “It’s a hurricane lamp,” she said. “You know, people take them camping, or they used to back in the days before batteries, but I think it has a certain ambience to it. And I have a bottle of kerosene. They say you need to use the kerosene in the hurricane lamp, but I can’t figure out how to do it. I thought you might know.”

  “We’ll have to ask Alder,” I said, but then I realised Alder had probably never been camping in his life. “Ruprecht would know,” I added with confidence.

  Camino waddled over to me. “Oh no, the kerosene bottle has a little split in the bottom. Is there something I could pour it into?”

  I pointed to a row of old tins on the bench. “Does kerosene react with tin? If not, pour it into one of those. Make sure you don’t put it in the tin of water. I keep it there to remind me to water the orchids once a week.”

  Camino did as I suggested, complaining about the smell of kerosene as she did so. “I wanted to put some camping items around and get you to take good photos of my sleeping bag onesies for my website.”

  “I’d be happy to,” I said, somewhat impressed. “You have a website already?”

  Camino looked delighted. “Yes, I do. It’s coming along nicely. What are you doing?”

  “I’m making a Bombe Alaska,” I said. “Or maybe it’s a Baked Alaska. I don’t know if there’s any difference. But whatever it is, I’m making it.”

  Camino gingerly lifted the edge of the sponge sitting on my kitchen bench. “Oh, you didn’t bake this,” she said with obvious relief.

  I rounded on her. “How can you tell?”

  She covered her face with an expanse of sleeping bag material, and I suspect she was doing her best not to laugh. I sighed and turned back to the cake. I followed the instructions by folding the raspberries in with the ice cream. I spread them thickly over the side of the sponge base, and then brushed the meringue over the other round slab of sponge and pressed it firmly onto the top of the ice cream mixture. I covered it with plastic wrap and put it in the freezer.

  Camino nodded her approval. “I’m so impressed. You did that very well.”

  “This is the second one I’ve made already,” I told her. I retrieved the other one and put it on the counter. “This one is ready to go. I have to use the kitchen blowtorch and I’ve never used one before. Would you like to see?”

  Camino tried to back away, but tripped and fell heavily on the kitchen floor. She narrowly escaped landing on Hawthorn who hissed and swatted at her.

  I helped her to her feet. “It’s perfectly safe,” I told her. “I haven’t set anything on fire for a while now.” I spread the meringue over the pudding and covered it completely.

  “I must say that looks good, Amelia.”

  I seized the kitchen blowtorch and made to scorch the meringue, when I was startled by a loud screech.

  “Fire!”

  I swung around, the blowtorch my hand, to see Camino throw a jug of liquid over the flame.

  The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the floor, water dripping down my face.

  “There was an explosion,” Camino said, somewhat unnecessarily.

  “You threw kerosene on a lighted flame,” I said through clenched teeth. “It’s a wonder we weren’t both killed!”

  “The house turned on the sprinkler system instantly,” Camino informed me. “My ears hurt.”

  I looked down to see I was sitting in a puddle of water. “I can’t hear you very well. Whatever possessed you to do that, Camino?”

  “I thought your baking was on fire as usual,” Camino said. “I know you said it was a blowtorch, but I had a knee jerk reaction to your baking.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Anyway, I thought I’d grabbed the tin of water.”

  I was unable to think of a suitable reply. No doubt I would think of one the following week. I inspected the singed ends of my hair. “Well, I’m sure the day can’t get any worse.”

  Right then it did. My phone sounded the alert for an incoming text. I pulled the phone from my jeans pocket. It was Alder.

  My aunt wants to meet you, so I thought we should meet at a neutral place like the café opposite the bottom pub. See you in 15?

  Chapter 4

  I reached the café first. I chose a table with a good view of the street and sat with my back against the wall. I wanted as much advance knowledge of Alder’s aunt as I could possibly get. For goodness’ sake, I didn’t even know her name.

  I was five minutes early, but it was only a couple of minutes before Alder swept into view. Beside him was a woman clutching a giant white handbag to her chest. She exuded meanness—or was I being unfair? Perhaps she was nice like Alder, not like the rest of his family.

  I shook my head to dispel that notion. Alder would have told me if his aunt was anything but horrid. They had been estranged, after all.

  Butterflies churned wildly in my stomach as she approached. She hadn’t spotted me yet so I had a good chance to look her over. She was much shorter than Alder, as were most people, but she walked like a Scottish pit pony or a mean character from a book by the Brothers Grimm. Maybe both. I almo
st expected the ground to shake with every footfall.

  They entered the café and I stood up to meet them. It gave me no comfort that Alder’s face was white and drawn. His lips brushed my cheek as he whispered, “What happened to your eyebrows?”

  I barely had time to respond, let alone take in his scent of sandalwood and lime, as the woman marched straight over to me. She did not disguise the fact that she looked me up and down with scorn. Her eyes narrowed into thin slits, malice lurking behind her eyelids. “Miss Spelled!” she spat and then muttered darkly to herself.

  I couldn’t hear what she said as my ears were still ringing from the explosion, and it was probably just as well. Alder had clearly heard, given the fact his face paled even more.

  Alder took a step forward and by his hand gestures, I realised he was introducing his aunt. I couldn’t quite catch her name, but I heard the word ‘bunions.’ No wonder she looked in pain. A pang of remorse hit me.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” I said. “I’ve heard they can ache dreadfully.”

  The woman’s jaw dropped and she mumbled some words. Again, I couldn’t quite hear what she said. Alder shot me a puzzled look.

  I plastered what I hoped was a sympathetic look across my face. “I’ve never had one, but I’ve heard they can be quite painful. No doubt your big toe joint is large and swollen. Or it is both your big toes?”

  Alder rubbed his forehead furiously.

  The woman lurched close to me and stuck her face only centimetres from mine. Her eyes were bloodshot and her breath rancid. “You’re not funny!” With that, she shot a look around the café and then took a step back and firmly clamped her hand over her mouth.

  Alder put his mouth close to my ear and said, quite loudly, “My aunt’s name is Bertha Bunyons.” He spelt her surname.

  “That’s Mrs Bunyons to you.” The woman raised her voice to such a pitch that I was able to hear her clearly.

  My face burned. “Oh, I’m so terribly sorry, Bertha, um, Mrs Bunyons. One of my cakes exploded and I haven’t been able to hear properly since. I thought you said you had bunions. I did wonder why you shared your medical conditions when we’ve only just met.” I thought I had better stop speaking. I was only getting myself further into trouble. Perhaps I should compliment her on her appearance. “I like your brown jacket,” I lied.