A Charming Brew

by Robin Roseau

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Well, it’s not instant. They don’t finish, and she’s pregnant. It takes time. With you, it was the next morning. I knew the instant I was pregnant.”

  “How?”

  “Because I felt my magic flee my body.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “It was the next morning,” Merry continued. “Your father and I were about to have breakfast. I was making eggs and bacon. And then I suddenly had to sit down, and I felt the magic leaving me, and I knew. I turned to your father and said, ‘John, you’re going to be father. A little girl. A perfect little girl.’ And before he could even ask me how long I’d been pregnant, the phone started ringing. I told him, ‘Hold that thought. That’s Jacqueline, and she’s frantic with worry.’ And I answered the phone.”

  “I was out of my mind,” I said. “I was afraid something had happened to her. I didn’t think she had decided yet.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Honey,” Merry said. “A witch can’t have children. If she gets pregnant, her magic leaves.”

  “With our line,” I continued, “the magic is divided between the sisters, but when one becomes pregnant, she loses her magic, and it’s shared between the remaining sisters.”

  “Wait!” Lydia said. “So you’re a witch, too, Mom?”

  “Not anymore, honey. Not since nine months before you were born.”

  “You knew. You knew you wouldn’t be able to cast spells anymore, if you had me.”

  “I knew,” Merry said. “I wanted you so much.”

  “Oh, Mom!” Lydia said. She practically flew across the room to wrap her arms around her mother. The two held each other tightly.

  “I can never have children,” I said quietly. “When Merry became pregnant, I inherited her magic. That could only happen two ways. Either she was pregnant, or she was dead. You can imagine how much I hoped it was the former, and not the latter. But as I’m the last sister, the magic is mine, and I cannot have children.”

  Merry squeezed her daughter once more then pushed her back. “Go sit down, honey.”

  A stunned-looking Lydia made her way back to the sofa. I glanced at my sister, and then the two of us took places on either side of the girl, nudging her to the side to make room for both of us. We both took one of her hands.

  “Um. So. Am I a witch, too?” Lydia asked.

  “You started to manifest your powers with puberty,” Merry explained. “You wouldn’t know what it was. It’s hard to tell that from everything else you’re going through.”

  “Like growing breasts.”

  “Yeah. Like growing breasts,” Merry said.

  “I’m a witch.”

  “You’re a potential witch in training,” I said.

  “Your aunt will have to teach you,” Merry added.

  “I’m a witch.”

  “A witch in training,” I corrected. “Yes.”

  “Really? Like, I cast spells?”

  “You’ll learn to brew potions and make charms.”

  “Like the one on my wrist, and the ones Mom started wearing.”

  “Yes,” Merry said.

  Lydia looked at me. “What about all the stuff we put away tonight?”

  “More protection charms,” I said. “The dream catchers do exactly what everyone says they do. They help to prevent nightmares. They’re not perfect, or you would never have a single bad dream.” There was one hanging over Lydia’s bed, after all. “I have some that keep bugs out of the house. Others ward off evil.”

  “That is so cool!” Then Merry and I watched her figure the rest out. “What happens to me? I don’t have a sister.” Then she looked at her mother. “You always wore a bracelet like mine.”

  “Yes. I used to make my own. Now Jackie makes them for me.”

  She freed her hand from mine and brushed her fingers against her mother’s necklace. Then she turned to me, and I received a suspicious look. “What were you brewing?”

  “A belt for me,” Merry answered for me.

  “Why? Why now?”

  “It’s not really for your mother,” I said. “But she’ll be the one wearing it.”

  “If it’s not for her, who is it for?”

  Merry answered. “Lydia, your aunt knows this, and I told your father. I was waiting another month to tell you. You’re going to be a big sister.”

  “What?” She screeched. “You’re pregnant? Mom!” She threw her arms around her mother.

  “Please tell me you’re okay with this, honey,” Merry said. “You know your father and I will continue to love you ever bit as much as we already do.”

  “Fine with it? You bet I’m fine with it. I get a little brother or sister to boss around.” She released her mother. “I’m not low kid on the totem pole anymore!” Then her eyes narrowed. “Why were you waiting to tell me?”

  “A lot can happen during a pregnancy,” Merry said. “Especially early. Especially when the mother is as old as I am.”

  “You’re not that old.” Then she turned to me. “That’s why she’s wearing all your... um..”

  “Charms. Yes.”

  She looked back at her mom then bounced from the sofa and danced around the room. “I’m going to be a sister! I’m going to be a sister!”

  “I guess she’s okay with it,” I said to Merry.

  “I guess so.”

  Finally Lydia turned to face us. Merry patted the couch, and the girl sat down between us again. We each grabbed a hand, probably more for ourselves than for her. Lydia was the least upset about all of us.

  “There’s more to tell me, isn’t there?”

  “Some,” I said.

  “We don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl,” Merry said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “Our line hasn’t had a boy in at least five centuries. It’s a girl, and you know it.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Oh please,” I said. “It’s a little sister. Our line always produces at least two sisters, sometimes as many as five.”

  “Nevertheless, we’re waiting to see,” Merry said. “Lydia, someday, far, far in the future, you and your little sister will have to decide.”

  “Decide what?”

  “Which of you gets to have children,” I answered.

  “Oh.”

  “And that is what you’re too young to appreciate,” Merry said. “The day I knew I was pregnant with you, I couldn’t have been happier or sadder at the same time.” She looked away. “Until I became pregnant, we didn’t know what would happen for you. Would you have any magic at all, without a sister? Would you be able to have children? We didn’t know. I thought if you never practiced magic, you wouldn’t miss it when you decide to have kids of your own.”

  “That’s-“ Lydia paused. “Mom, I don’t think that’s your decision. That’s my decision.”

  “You’re right,” Merry said.

  “So, now that I know, Aunt Jackie can start teaching me.”

  “Not yet,” Merry replied.

  “But-“

  “Not yet,” I said. “Your mother knows she’s carrying a little girl, but she isn’t ready to fully admit it yet.”

  “We were going to wait until you were 18,” Merry explained. “Then when I knew I was pregnant, I told Jacqueline she could start teaching you when you turn 16, if it’s a girl. Otherwise she had to wait as we’d already agreed.”

  “That’s almost three years!” Lydia said. “Why do I have to wait?”

  “Jackie, if this is a healthy girl, then you may give Lydia her first grimoire on her 14th birthday.”

  “What’s a grim-thing?”

  “A book of potions,” I explained. “Simple potions.”

  “14? Why do I have to wait?”

  “I’ll give you a choice,” Merry said. “You can start when you turn 14, or you can wait until you’re an adult at 18.”

  “14,” Lydia said immediately.

  “I thought you might pick that one,” Merry said. “And
now you are going to listen to me, and when I get done, you’re going to say ‘Yes, Mom. I promise.’ You are going to do whatever your aunt tells you, no more, no less. You aren’t going to peek ahead. You aren’t going to make a single drop of potion without her supervision.”

  “Yes, Mom. I promise.”

  “I’m not done. You’re going to wear whatever charms she makes for you. I don’t care if they’re dorky. You’re going to wear them with a smile.”

  “Only if you do. And Daddy.”

  “Your father doesn’t know, and we’re not telling him. But I’ll wear whatever she makes for me.” Then she looked over her daughter’s head. “And maybe some more for the house.”

  I nodded.

  “And more for your own.”

  “Mine is as protected as I can make it,” I said.

  “I’m going to get John to take me away for a weekend. I want you to come over and put stuff where he won’t find them. Can you do that?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Next, Lydia,” Merry said. “You can’t breath a word to anyone. You can’t make any of your cute little remarks about this, not one single word. You absolutely will not give anyone a reason to believe either you or your aunt is a witch. Not one peep.”

  “That means you don’t even dress like a witch at Halloween,” I added.

  “I won’t,” Lydia said. “I promise.”

  “Do we need to lay it out more clearly?”

  “No, Mom. I understand. Anything else?”

  “That’s the rules,” Merry said. “But now I have some advice.”

  “Your mother gives very good advice, Lydia, and only a fool ignores it. You’re no fool.”

  “I’ll listen.”

  “There will be a temptation to begin dressing and acting either goth or new age. Doing so would be a significant mistake.”

  “Why? Because people might guess?”

  “Because people will think you’re weird,” Merry said. “And that limits your choice of friends.” She looked away. “I lost my best friend because her mother wouldn’t let me play with her.”

  “Wait, what?”

  She turned back. “You don’t think it was your generation that invented the goth look, do you?”

  “Wait, what? You were a goth?”

  “Do you ever wonder why you never see photos from when she was about sixteen until her wedding to your father?” I asked. “Your mother set the standard for goth, back before any of us called it that.”

  “If you choose this path, I’m not going to stop you,” Merry said. “But I hope you will remain who you currently are. You’re a lovely girl, and you’re going to be a lovely woman. You’re smart and everyone loves you. It’s hard to turn goth and not turn moody at the same time. I’d hate to watch that.”

  “As I said, your mother gives good advice, and only a fool ignores her.”

  She looked at me. “You’re trying to manipulate me.”

  “Am I wrong, Lydia?” I asked. “Have you ever heard your mother give bad advice? Ever?”

  “No,” she said slowly.

  “Do you think she’s giving bad advice now?”

  “No. Does that mean I can’t ever wear black?”

  “Of course not,” Merry said. “In moderation, like everything else.”

  “Cause you look really good in that black dress of yours, Mom. Can I have one?”

  “When you’re older and I’m willing to let boys stare at your legs,” Merry replied immediately.

  Lydia grinned. “Dad likes to stare at yours. It’s cute.”

  Merry blushed, but it was true. To cover it, she said, “The two of you may continue as you have. I wouldn’t dream of keeping you apart.”

  “Thank you, Mom!” Lydia said, throwing her arms around her mother. In the meantime, in relief, I began to cry again. Merry saw, stretched past her daughter, and pulled me into a shared hug.

  We were still hugging when John poked his nose into the room. “What’s going on in here, and why aren’t I invited?”

  Lydia pushed away from Merry and me and ran over to her father, wrapping him in a hug. “Congratulations, Daddy! I’m going to be a big sister.”

  “You told her without me, Merry?”

  “It came out,” Merry said. And that was when I turned my tear-stained cheeks towards John.

  “Oh shit,” he said. “Who died?”

  “It’s just PMS,” I managed to get out.

  “Lydia’s got it, too,” Merry said. “If you don’t want to be attacked by killer estrogen, you’ll get out of here.”

  Lydia hugged him more tightly, but I could see his clear panic.

  “Don’t worry, Daddy,” Lydia said. “It won’t completely emasculate you.”

  “Who is teaching you those words?” John said. “I better leave the three of you.”

  He had to unpeel his laughing daughter before he could flee. From the top of the stairs, he hollered down, “Air it out before you leave.”

  Lydia plopped back on the couch, and the three of us began laughing. “Mom, that was mean,” Lydia said. “Mean.”

  “Some conversations are not for men,” Merry replied, not sounding the slightest contrite. “This is definitely one of them.”

  “I don’t mean you were mean to Daddy. I can’t believe you told him I have PMS.”

  Merry and I laughed.

  * * * *

  “So, how did tonight go?”

  “Ms. Mathis is totally gay and has the hots for Aunt Jackie.”

  “She is not, and she does not!”

  “Wait,” Merry said. “You hit on Lydia’s teacher?”

  “I didn’t hit on Lydia’s teacher. Your daughter has crappy gaydar and is insisting the two of us would make a perfect couple. She’s been matchmaking for days. I think asking me to help with Halloween was only the beginning of it.”

  “She’s gay,” Lydia said. “Gay, gay, gay. And you like her.”

  “I do like her, but we’re friends. That’s it.”

  “De Nile isn’t just a river in Egypt,” Lydia said. “Mom, Jay-jay wants to take me to Valleyfair, and if you say ‘no’, then we don’t get the scaffolding.”

  “I think you lost me.”

  “You remember Janice Jean,” I said “Jay-jay.”

  “Right. How is she? And Karla?”

  “They’re good,” I said. I explained about the scaffolding. Lydia interrupted and included the part about the date.

  “But you can’t get all hung up on that woman, because you and Ms. Mathis are going to be so cute together. I can’t wait until she’s my aunt. She’s almost as cool as you are! Will you tell her you’re a witch?”

  “I will not,” I said. “And for the last time, she’s not gay.”

  “Oh good. Then you’ve agreed to stop denying your attraction.”

  “Lydia!” her mother and I said together. “Enough.”

  “She’s gay,” Lydia said in a quiet voice. “So can I go to Valleyfair with Jay-jay and Karla?”

  “She really blackmailed you?” Merry asked.

  “I think she would have taken one of three,” I said. “Or two of three. You can say ‘no’.”

  “No she can’t!” Lydia said immediately. “Or we don’t get the scaffolding, and we need it.”

  “Do you even know what scaffolding is?”

  “No, but Mr. White—that’s Jenny’s dad—says we need it. So we need it. For the haunted maze. Mom, do you think you and Dad want to help during the party? We could use more people to haunt the maze, but I think Mrs. White is making enough costumes, so you’d have to make your own.”

  “I’ll ask your father. And no, you won’t ask him, because you know he can’t say ‘no’ to you any better than anyone else can.”

  “He can’t say ‘no’ to you, either.”

  “Perhaps not, but I know how to ask in a way that he knows it’s okay to turn me down.”

  “Lydia,” I said, “Part of the reason people don’t say ‘no’ to you is becau
se you don’t abuse it. If you were the sort of girl to abuse it, it would be a lot easier to turn you down. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  “Yes. So, Mom?”

  “I’ll help, and we’ll let your father decide if he wants to help or would prefer to stay home. He’s not as comfortable climbing outside his comfort box as we are.”

  Lydia nodded. “Thanks, Mom. So, Valleyfair?”

  “Yes, you may go with Jay-jay and Karla, but not if it means neglecting any of your commitments.”

  “She suggested the day after the Halloween party.”

  “The you’ll have to get up very early that morning to help clean up the school from the party. I’ll sign you up for the 8 am to noon shift.”

  “Valleyfair opens at 11.”

  “And Jay-jay will get you at school at noon. Are you going to argue?”

  “No, Mom.”

  “Good. You’re a sweet girl.” And she kissed Lydia on the forehead. “Now, if you have any other questions about your aunt, you have five minutes to ask them. Then this conversation is over until you turn 14. Am I clear?”

  The girl turned to me. “Do you have to kill things?”

  “No,” I said. “That would be death magic, and I don’t do anything like that. I don’t know if I even can. Different witches have different powers.”

  “So no eye of newt or things like that?”

  “Nothing like that.”

  “What about the hair?”

  I explained, briefly, and she nodded.

  “I suppose you need more from me, if you’re going to make more charms.”

  “Yes, but I want them fresh, and I’m not ready to use them yet. I have to finish the ones for your mother and little sister.” Then I paused. “Wait. I want three hairs tonight.”

  “Why?” Merry asked.

  “To add to the belt I’m making,” I said. “The protection of a sister can be very powerful, but those hairs only work when she knows what she’s protecting. Lydia you’re going to have a little sister. Do you want to help protect her?”

  Slowly she nodded.

  “Will you love her?” I asked.

  “With my whole heart.”

  “Will you change her diapers?” Merry asked.

  “Mom!” the girl complained. She sighed. “I suppose.”

  Merry chuckled.

  “Aunt Mable once had this conversation with me,” Merry said. “Before plucking hairs for your protection charms, Sis.”