Edie in Between

by Laura Sibson

  “Between that and my teachings, you’ll learn what you need.”

  I should have known that GG would believe in student-led instruction. “Okay, what do you want me to work on now?”

  “Light the candle there without a match.”

  I do not want to light that candle. The simple idea of it makes my fingers curl into my palms. I might even be sweating a little. “Is there something else I could start with?”

  “Perhaps. But learning to manage your element—your fire—is necessary.”

  I clear my throat. “So, this candle?” I walk over to GG’s Brigid candle. Mom had one, too. She lit it every night at sundown and I knew GG did the same. She’s made this candle of beeswax, and whenever she lights it, it smells of lavender.

  “That very one.”

  I wiggle my fingers, and then clench them into fists again. “No problem,” I say, but I’m procrastinating.

  “Do you have a lighter?” I’m still stalling.

  “No.”

  “Flamethrower?”

  “Edie.” GG’s tone tells me she’s had enough of my nonsense. I stand before the candle. Nothing to be afraid of. Just a candle. I lift my hands, trying to remember the guidance Mom had given me during our lessons so long ago.

  I’d been excited then, eager to learn our craft. I can picture her clearly with her long wavy hair pulled back with a tortoise- shell clip. She wore a loose dress with a batik pattern of blues and purples. She’d just shown me how she could conjure a ball of water. When she let it splash into the sink, she’d laughed with delight. I wanted to experience that same joy, but I was scared of my element.

  “Don’t be frightened,” Mom said to me. “Anger and fear bring chaos to our magic. We seek balance and order. Slow your breathing. Calm your mind. Relax your body. Then, when you are ready, hold your palms up and ask the fire to come to you. And remember, Edie, I am here. My water can put out any fire.”

  Now, as I stood before GG’s candle, I focused on all of the steps that Mom taught me. But when I hold my palms up, a spasm of fear goes through me. I tighten my hands into fists to tamp down the fire and let them drop. I sigh loud enough for GG to hear.

  “Sighing won’t light the candle,” GG says. “Or at least sighing alone won’t light the candle.”

  “I can’t do it.”

  “You can do it. It’s a part of you. You’re blocking your magic from coming to you and I can’t imagine why.”

  “No, you can’t,” I say, frustrated. GG can’t imagine why because she’s never done something terrible with her magic.

  * * *

  * * *

  As I’m heading out for my evening shift at Ye Olde Ice Cream Shoppe, GG hands me a list and tells me that I need to stop by Cosmic Flow.

  “That phony metaphysical store? Seriously?”

  “Cosmic Flow has some hard-to-find items that we’ll need.”

  I wave the list at GG. “Mom always said that those stores sell fake products and they propagate a misleading view of our craft.” Maybe GG won’t make me go if I make a strong enough case against it.

  “That is true of many such stores. But it’s not true of this one.”

  Conceding defeat, I leave with the list. Near the marina office, Jim is helping a young couple with a boat rental.

  “Hey, Edie, how’s it going today?” he calls to me.

  “Meh, been better, to be honest.”

  “You know what they say, don’t you?” Jim says, grinning.

  “Nope.”

  “A bad day on the river is better than a good day on land.” He turns to the couple he’s helping. “Especially on a beautiful Saturday like today. Am I right? ” The man nods, but the woman eyes the boat with doubt.

  “If you say so.” I can’t help but smile; Jim has that effect. “Got to run. See you!”

  Jim dips his head in response.

  I take my time getting to Cosmic Flow. I’ve never liked those sorts of stores with their overpowering incense and dim lights intended to lend a mysterious air to totally ordinary items. I tell myself it’s because of Mom, but part of me knows it’s because I’ve never felt that I belonged in that world, even a fake version of it. I stop at the general store on the way for a Coke and a bag of Gummi Bears, because everyone knows that sugar makes failure taste less bitter. That’s not magic, that’s just truth. But there are only so many detours I can take in this small town.

  A brass bell jingles when I open the door to Cosmic Flow. I’m immediately hit by scents of lavender and sage mingling with sandalwood. Tall shelves on the left showcase countless tinctures in tiny amber bottles. On round tables draped in hand-dyed cloth, carved wooden bowls hold bird wings, seashells, and bones. In the back, despite myself, I’m drawn to an altar woven with wildflowers and lit with flickering candles.

  “Welcome to Cosmic Flow.” A female voice floats across the darkened space. “The source for your mystical, magical tools and supplies.”

  I try not to roll my eyes as I step toward the counter. I am about to pull out my list when I stop. It’s Rhia, the girl from the party at the barn. The girl I ran away from, I think, and I cringe inside. She’s changed her hair and I can’t take my eyes off it. Gold thread, pearls, and tiny shells are woven into skinny side braids that end in her natural curls. The tips of those curls are dyed blue. She’s wearing a cropped white tank top with the moon phases printed in black. She has a silver ring on every finger. A small tattoo of a squirrel perches on one shoulder. Three tiny stars wink at me from her inner wrist. And I’m the one who is supposed to be magical.

  “Um, can I help you?” she says, and I can’t tell from her tone if she remembers me or not.

  I’m embarrassed by the way I ran off the other night and I’m hoping I can get this errand over with and not do any additional damage. She uncaps a marker and writes on something I can’t see from my angle. I step forward.

  “Hey,” I say. “My grandmother needs these items.” I hold the list out to Rhia. “I was wondering if you could help?”

  She slips the cap on the marker and tucks it into her back pocket. “Miss Geraldine sent you this time, huh?”

  “Yeah, I was on my way to town for work anyway.” I pick up a piece of rose quartz from a dish sitting on the counter. I close my fingers around it. Cool and calm. Nothing like that strange rock from the cabin.

  “Right, the Ice Cream Alchemist.”

  So she remembered. I drop the crystal back into the dish and smile to myself while Rhia scans the list. She levels a gaze at me. “Looks like you all are getting into some serious magic.”

  “Well, you know my grandmother. Never met a chicken foot she didn’t love.” I bite my lip, willing myself not to say anything else stupid.

  But Rhia laughs in that big open way that I noticed at the party. “Tess didn’t tell me you were funny.” Rhia comes from around the counter and hands me a tote bag. “For your discoveries.”

  “This is cool,” I say, holding the bag at arm’s length so I can fully see the way the store’s name is depicted with Celtic knots surrounded by spirals and stars.

  “I designed that.”

  I look at the bag again. “Wow. I like it even better now.”

  “You know, I worked hard on it and hardly anyone comments. So thank you. You sort of just made my day.”

  “Glad to be of service.” I bow a little bit. Oh my gods, I must be the most awkward human on this planet.

  Rhia’s smile looks like it knows something I don’t. As I follow her, I wonder if I just accidentally flirted. I feel like maybe I did, which would be a first for me. Rhia takes me throughout the shop, dropping various items into the bag. As she gives a running commentary on the selections, I’m amazed by how much she knows about the magical world. I’m mostly quiet because—let’s face it—I barely have anything to add due to very little witch training. A
lso, I’m pretty dazzled by watching and listening to Rhia. By the time we are finished, the bag’s contents include bird’s feet, dried fungi, feathers of various shapes and colors, and two powders—one crushed horn, the other crushed antler.

  As Rhia slides everything back into the canvas bag, she assures me that no animals are harmed; they harvest everything from what they find on foraging trips. She slips in the receipt and hands the bag to me.

  “Thanks for your help,” I say. “Otherwise it would have taken me forever and I would have missed my shift and Tess would have had to make all of those sundaes and milkshakes and twists by herself.” I lean toward Rhia as if I’m sharing a secret. “And between you and me, she’s not that great at twists, so you’ve basically done a service for the town.”

  Rhia’s laugh makes me realize that I could get used to making this girl laugh. That’s not a feeling I expect, and I push my hair out of my face as I let that sink in.

  “Now I’m the one who’s glad to be of service,” Rhia says. Then, she gives me a little bow. And now whose day is made?

  “Hey,” she says as I’m leaving. “Say hi to Tess for me.”

  “You got it.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Tess glances at the tote bag when I enter the ice cream shop. “Cosmic Flow. Was Rhia working?” She’s rinsing off a scooper, something we do approximately three hundred times a shift.

  “Yeah, she said hi,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual as I grab a clean apron.

  The thing is, I’ve never found a girl so interesting before. Or a boy, or anyone, for that matter. As people at school began to pair up like they were ready to board Noah’s ark, I started to assume that the world of attraction and romance wasn’t for me. Mom and I had even had Tea and a Talk about it. She’d made a peach tea with some of GG’s honey for that one. I was sure there was something wrong with me because I hadn’t felt the same stirrings everyone else at school seemed to be feeling. Mom made me feel so supported, saying that human desire exists on a very broad continuum from none to a lot, and wherever I landed, it would be exactly right for me.

  But now I’d met a girl who I found interesting. I have no idea what to do with the bubbling feelings. And no mom to talk to.

  I peer into my bag and pull out a card that Rhia must have slipped in. I sense a blush creep up my cheeks, even though Rhia isn’t here and even though she probably gives these cards to everyone who comes in. It’s a tarot card. The Wheel of Fortune. On the back of the card, Rhia has written the name of the store, a phone number, and a doodle of herself.

  After hanging up the bag, I show Tess the card. I hope that I’m not blushing anymore. “What does this mean?”

  “You’d have to ask Rhia. I told you, she knows about all that shit—tarot, witch history, Wiccan rituals, paranormal shit. All of it.”

  I tuck the card into my pocket. As I’m wrestling my long hair into a fresh ponytail, Tess says, “Know what? You can ask her all about her witchy knowledge tonight.”

  The idea of seeing Rhia again spreads tingles through me that have nothing to do with my magic, but the reality, well, the reality makes me want to run. Far away and very fast. “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll hang tonight. After work,” she says as she taps out a text. I open my mouth, but Tess holds up a hand. “Don’t even. I already told Rhia that you’re coming to hang with us. We’ll go to the beach.”

  I pull the bill of my baseball cap low over my eyes. “Ugh. But I’m so awkward!”

  “Stop talking about my friend that way.” Tess loops her arm in mine. “You’re awesome. Let’s finish this shift and then we’ll go. It’ll be great.”

  * * *

  * * *

  I brace myself for another gathering with a lot of people I can embarrass myself in front of—especially Rhia. Tess blares music as we fly down country roads until she stops suddenly to turn onto a dirt road flanked by fields. This definitely does not look like a beach. On the left, in the middle of an empty field rising toward the waning moon is one huge tree. Tess veers off the dirt road onto the field.

  “Whoa!” I say, clutching the oh-shit handle.

  Tess laughs. “This is why we all drive trucks and Jeeps out here. Four-wheel drive, baby!”

  We bump along the field until Tess puts it in park and hops out of the car.

  “The beech,” I say, finally understanding that our destination was never somewhere flat and sandy bordering the river.

  “Yeah, what did you think?”

  “Well, I was mentally preparing myself for skinny dipping.”

  “What?” There is a pause and then Tess giggles. “Oh! You thought—”

  “Yeah.”

  Chapter Ten

  EDIE

  The tree is a huge weeping beech—the tree of knowledge— and right now all I know is that my stomach is trying to come up through my throat. Rhia is already there, her white shirt luminous in the glow of the waning moon. She holds back some hanging branches for us as if they were a beaded curtain. Tess flashes her camera light around the space. Beneath the twisting, weeping branches of the beech is a space larger than some apartments. On a circle of tree stumps, candles in glass jars flicker, radiating a warm glow near and deepening the dark beyond.

  “Welcome to our sanctuary,” Rhia says, opening her arms wide.

  “This is an incredible tree,” I say. Looking up, branches soar way overhead before they drop back toward earth dressed in leaves. This tree must be so old that it would have been here even before my mom’s time. Maybe even GG’s.

  “This is where we come to get away from life,” Tess says. “Or just to hang.”

  “I brought soda since two of us are driving. Is that okay, Edie?” Rhia says.

  “Soda’s great. Unless it’s ginger ale, in which case, blech.”

  “It’s ginger ale,” Rhia says.

  And there it is—my first foot in mouth of the evening. Nice job, Edie. Mortification must be written on my face because Rhia bursts into laughter.

  “Kidding! It’s orange. Because Tess loves orange soda.”

  “Truth. It makes me happy,” Tess says, pulling out a huge bag of chips. “And I brought these. Because salty and sweet are the best together.”

  At first, I feel bad that I don’t have anything. Then I remember. “I have Gummi Bears!” I root around in my backpack and pull out the bag.

  “You didn’t need to bring anything,” Tess says.

  “I happened to have them,” I say. I don’t need to mention that I got them while trying to avoid going to Cosmic Flow.

  “And I, for one, am grateful. I love Gummis!” Rhia says, holding out an open palm. I’m absurdly pleased that Rhia likes what I brought. I try to shake a few out, but they fall in a clump. Smooth move there, Edie.

  “That’s like a mob of Gummis,” Rhia says, peering at her palm.

  “Or a scrum,” I offer. I take a seat on the ground, cushioned by leaves that have fallen seasons before.

  “Or an orgy,” Tess adds.

  “Ugh! I don’t want to think about Gummi Bears getting nasty in my belly!” Rhia says, still peering at the candy in her palm.

  “You’d rather they were playing rugby in your belly?” Tess asks.

  “Those two things don’t seem all that different to me. I mean, have you seen a rugby scrum?” I say.

  Rhia and Tess cackle.

  I crack open an orange soda and look around the space where we all sit. “Doesn’t this field belong to someone?” I ask. “Don’t they care that we’re on their property?”

  “It’s my uncle’s,” Tess says. “He doesn’t care as long as we don’t leave any trash. And we don’t.”

  “We would never,” Rhia says, craning her neck to look up into the tangle of branches overhead.

  I hear in the way that they talk about this s
pace the same reverence for nature—and especially the wisdom of trees—that Mom and GG instilled in me and which I still feel, especially sitting beneath this old one as night presses in around us.

  “I still can’t believe that you’re Geraldine Mitchell’s granddaughter,” Rhia says as we break open the chips.

  “Why’s that?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.

  “No offense, but you seem so, I don’t know—athletic?”

  An unexpected laugh bursts out of me and Rhia laughs, too. I grab a handful of chips. “Are you saying witchy people can’t work out?”

  “I’m saying I can’t exactly imagine Miss Geraldine running a 5K in her day.”

  “Yeah, well, my grandmother and I don’t have a lot in common. Her whole scene is not really my thing,” I say. Though it looks like it’s getting ready to be my thing, whether I like it or not. I catch myself rubbing my left palm with my right thumb. A shiver of cold rushes through me. I stop.

  “Not your thing?” Rhia’s tone is incredulous. “Is that even possible? You have magic. It’s as much a part of you as your two arms or the fact that your eyes are hazel.”

  “That’s pretty much what my grandmother says. Especially lately,” I say. But I’d rather focus on the fact that Rhia noticed my eye color than what GG has shared.

  “If I were a Mitchell, I’d be all about the magic.”

  “In my experience, being a Mitchell is the shortest distance to having no friends.” I toss a handful of Gummi Bears in my mouth so I don’t have to make eye contact with the two of them.

  “Maybe you’ve been looking in the wrong places for friends,” Rhia says.

  Rhia’s words have teeth. They won’t let go. It’s true that here, I’d made friends with Tess easily, and without having to hide anything. She knew who my grandmother was, and she didn’t care. Rhia maybe cared a bit too much about my family, but—in a way—that was sort of a welcome change.

  “Do you do anything your grandma does?” Tess asks. “Like the salves and honey and stuff?”